Chimaera
by Viktoria7
Summary: When an asset goes missing, Harry Pearce requests the help of a linguist, who may soon wish she'd stuck to mundane jobs, like translating books, as a horrific international plot is revealed. Lucas/OFC, slow-burn romance. Rated M from Chapter 11 on.
1. Chapter 1: The Asset

Hello and welcome!

I have two other stories, one of which is complete (though in the process of being overhauled) and one of which is nearly complete. So really, I probably shouldn't have begun a new story, but I was itching to write a modern fic, and since Lucas is my favorite of Richard Armitage's characters, I couldn't resist.

_Chimaera _takes place directly after season 8 and completely bypasses season 9. Ergo, there is no John Bateman, because, as we all know, that story arc was ridiculous and unfounded, even if Richard _did _play it heartrendingly beautifully. This is a slow-burn romance, but Lucas and the OFC will eventually get together and...you know.

As with _Soul Healing_ and _Thorin/Talaitha One-__Shots_, I will post character information and story images on my profile. So check it out. :)

**Disclaimer: **I only own my OFC (Varinia Erdélyi)...for now.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Asset**

Another day. Another failed relationship. Lucas wondered why he even bothered anymore. Then again, when one's girlfriend was revealed to be plotting to take over the world, as it were, no one could blame him for feeling fatalistic about relationships.

Sarah, the blonde American agent. He hadn't loved her, but he'd nevertheless felt betrayed when he'd learned she was a member of Nightingale.

Betrayal.

Now that was a word he knew all too well. Connie had betrayed his identity to the Russians, had been the direct cause of his eight-year-long _sojourn_ in Russian hell. The years of torture, followed by kindness. They were enough to give him emotional and psychological whiplash. And, if he allowed himself, he could still feel the bruises and broken bones and bloody gashes and electrocutions and suffocations.

But not the rapes. Never the rapes.

Betrayal.

Harry had waited an awfully long time to arrange for his release. Lucas had blamed him, before he'd learned the truth. He blamed Harry even after he'd learned the truth. He should have helped him sooner. Lucas refused to believe that he couldn't have. The world had gone on, while he'd stagnated. He'd missed eight years of _Coronation Street_-not that he'd watched it anyway. He'd missed eight years of football and rugby matches, eight years of Wimbledon, though he hadn't cared for tennis. Eight years of decent tea and fish and chips.

And eight years of Elizaveta.

Elizaveta. God, how he'd missed her. He'd clung on because of her, training his mind to think of her in the weeks and sometimes months of utter solitude. Those reminiscences were the reason he'd endured. Then to come back and discover that she had remarried and had a child...well, in that moment, Lucas almost wished he hadn't survived.

His whole life, gone. And all because of one betrayal that had spread like a virus to infect all other meaningful relationships.

The opening of the lift doors jolted him out of his thoughts. The room looked empty. No Malcolm, no Ben, no Jo, and no Ros. Ruth was gazing intently at her computer screen, no doubt doing research about the latest threat. What was it again? Oh yes, an asset gone missing. Tariq was digging up the asset's last known location based on CCTV footage. And Harry was in his office, as usual.

Lucas was beginning to think it would be a slow day, until a figure walked from the lift into the room. A small woman with strawberry blonde hair, currently fixed into a bun. She glanced at him, her eyebrows furrowing, and he realised he'd been staring. He looked down but felt a slight breeze as she passed.

Well, that was new.

Harry had apparently spotted the woman, too, for he came out of his office, right hand outstretched.

"Harry Pearce, head of Section D."

"Varinia Erdélyi, former freelance translator on loan from MI6," the woman replied, shaking Harry's hand.

"Yes, thank you for coming," said Harry, leading Varinia to Ruth's station. "I believe you speak Turkish, among other languages?"

Varinia nodded and took a seat beside the computer. "Six wouldn't tell me what was going on, though."

Lucas peered over his own computer, curious. Harry gestured for him to join them.

"Miss Erdélyi, this is Lucas North."

He clasped her hand and was surprised at her firm grip. "A pleasure, Miss Erdélyi."

"Please, just Varinia," she requested, smiling. "You're a Spook?"

"I am," he said, with a small smile of his own.

Harry cleared his throat, ending the introduction.

"We've an asset that's gone missing, exact date and location as yet unknown. Tariq, our resident computer whizz, is searching now."

"I've got him narrowed down to Charing Cross Road, but that was nearly two weeks ago," Tariq said.

"We've heard from him since then," Ruth remarked.

"When was he supposed to check in?" Varinia asked.

"Three days ago," supplied Lucas. "He's always been punctual."

Varinia looked up at him, smiling grimly. "Until now." She read the asset's file over Ruth's shoulder. "Altan Özil. He's Turkish."

"Yes," Harry agreed. "I was hoping you could accompany Lucas to Altan's flat, in case something there can help us locate him."

Lucas had been leaning against the desk, but now he straightened. "You're sending a translator to the home of someone who's likely been abducted?"

Varinia's eyes narrowed. "I have some self-defence training."

"Enough to take out a man bent on killing you?"

"Maybe," she hedged. "But if I can't, then that's why you're there."

Ruth glanced between the two, then at Harry, who stepped in before an argument began.

"Lucas, Varinia. Are you able to work together?"

She averted her gaze, feeling like a child being scolded. Lucas eyed her for a second, before nodding.

"We are."

Varinia, too, nodded. "Yes."

"Good," said Harry, walking towards his office. "Tariq will give you Altan's address, and we'll be with you the entire time." He looked pointedly at Varinia. "Lucas is my most trusted agent. Listen to him."

She shared a glance with the dark-haired Spook, as they fitted themselves with the earpieces and mics. Lucas looked less than enthusiastic to be working with her, but she merely sighed and followed him down to the car park.


	2. Chapter 2: Inside Out

Oh look, just in time for SpyDay (AKA what the Richard Armitage fandom calls Sunday).

Oh my goodness! Reviews already. I'm so pleased. Thank you!

westwingnut221: Always lovely to see a familiar name. :) Oh, I can certainly handle Lucas (pun also intended); it's the espionage bit I'm less confident about, lol.

Nicci1234: Hi! *waves* Thanks, and I hope it remains interesting!

lexie2: Yes, I really don't agree with what the writers did with Lucas in series 9. There was absolutely nothing that could have heralded it, and I really dislike these "jump the shark" moments. *shrugs* But I hope to make up for it with giving Lucas all the glory he deserved but didn't get after series 8. :)

Batteredpen: Truthfully, I'll be curious to see where I take this, too. XD

**Disclaimer:** Only own Varinia.

Enjoy! (I hope)

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**Chapter 2: Inside Out**

The asset's flat was a mess. Bookshelves were stripped bare of their books, which laid scattered on the wood floor, their pages crumpled and torn. One of the sofas was missing its cushion, and someone had cut into it with a knife. The pages of the magazines on the coffee table had been ripped in the haste of finding whatever it was that Altan had discovered. Some of the dishes in the kitchen were broken, and the freezer door was open, releasing the cold air and letting in the warm. The bedroom looked no better, with books and clothes and shoes and electronics in a disarray, as though a tornado had come through and flung everything from its place. Even the labels on the shampoo and soap bottles had been removed.

Varinia stared at the scene in horror.

"Is it always like this?" she asked, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Usually, yeah," Lucas replied. He looked at the small woman with sympathy. "First time out in the field?"

She nodded. "I just translate whatever Six gives me." Varinia stepped over a collared shirt. "Was Altan taken from here?"

Lucas surveyed the flat, then shook his head. "I don't think so. It doesn't look like there was a struggle." Varinia mentioned the sliced up couch cushion, but he shook his head. "Whoever did that probably thought the asset had hidden something inside."

"And the clothes, too?"

"An incriminating piece of paper or a memory stick in his pocket," he answered. He watched, bemused, as she picked up a pair of trousers and dug through the pockets. "_If_ something was in there before, it definitely isn't now."

Varinia gave him a withering look. "Humour me." Lucas did and even picked up a pair of trousers of his own to search. But when she turned the garment inside out, he realised she may be on to something.

It was on his third trousers that he found the tiny piece of paper sewn into one of the legs. Written on it were two words: _Ardahan_ _Illet._

"What do you make of this?" he asked.

Varinia took the piece of paper, frowning. "Well, _illet_ is Turkish for illness, but I've never heard of the word _Ardahan_." Her earpiece crackled to life, and Tariq's voice filtered through to both her and Lucas. "_Ardahan is a small city in Turkey, near the Georgian border._"

"_Did you find anything else?"_ Harry asked.

"No," Lucas replied. "But we'll get back to you. There's an entire wardrobe to search." He smirked at Varinia, who threw him a checkered shirt. "How did you know a message would be hidden in Altan's trousers?"

"I didn't," Varinia said, with a shrug, turning a pair of track pants inside out. "But I remembered that Hungarians fleeing the Communists sometimes sewed money or their papers into their clothes, so the soldiers couldn't steal them."

She noticed his brows rise and was secretly a little pleased that she'd managed to impress him.

"You're Hungarian, then, I take it?"

"My last name's certainly not English," she quipped. "But yes, I'm Hungarian."

Lucas opened his mouth to reply but apparently thought better of it.

"Let me guess," Varinia laughed. "You were about to comment on my lack of an accent."

Lucas looked down, a small smile on his lips. "You hear that a lot, don't you."

"I do," she nodded.

"And I'm sure you're exasperated with reminding people you're a linguist."

Varinia grinned. "Right again," she said. "I wouldn't be very good at my job if I spoke English with an accent."

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

"No biggie. I did, after all, bluntly ask you if you were a Spook."

Lucas' lips twitched. "Then we're even."

"Now hold on," she protested. "You doubted my abilities out in the field."

"With good reason," Lucas agreed. "You just told me this is your first mission."

"Yeah, but that's two strikes for you and only one for me." Varinia arched a brow. "Which means we are decidedly _not_ even." Then her face brightened, as a thought occurred to her. "_And_ you found the clue because of me. That cancels out my previous strike, leaving me at zero, so I actually have two freebies."

"How old are you?" Lucas asked, his expression unreadable.

"Twenty-nine," she replied. "Why?"

"No reason." But the amused glint in his eyes suggested there was, in fact, a reason. He looked down at a yellowed t-shirt that might've once been white. "When was the last time you think Altan did his laundry?"

Varinia glimpsed the t-shirt, then looked at the jacket in her hands. "Oh dear."

She promptly dropped the jacket.

#

By the time they'd returned to the Grid, Tariq was already searching the internet and MI5's and MI6's files for mention of an illness in Ardahan. Varinia joined him, while Lucas went with Harry into his office.

"What do you make of her?" asked the head of Section D.

Lucas glanced at the linguist, who was staring intently at the computer screen over Tariq's shoulder. "She's sharp, despite appearances."

"Yes, Marcus over at Six highly recommended her," Harry agreed. "You have access to her file," he said. "In case you want to read it."

"You really think this Turkish asset stumbled across something big?"

"He must have, for him to have disappeared," Harry replied. "Tariq started searching for information on Ardahan, but he's found nothing relevant yet. A lot of the stuff is in Turkish, though."

Lucas looked over at the redhead again. She sat at a computer of her own and had presumably taken over the research, while Tariq and Ruth focused on locating Altan and learning who, if anyone, had abducted him.

"So she'll be with us for a while, then." Harry nodded. "And she'll be partnered with me, I take it?"

"You _are_ my most senior and trusted officer," Harry said wryly. Lucas, unaffected by the flattering words, lifted a brow. "She has basic training and is registered to carry a gun, but if this asset _has _discovered something, we'll need her out in the field."

"And I'm to babysit her," Lucas drawled, not entirely pleased. "Well," he sighed. "At least if we have to do a stake out, there'll be more conversation with her than there was with Ros."

Harry gave the other man a half-smile. "That's the spirit."


	3. Chapter 3: Mikhail Kolesnikov

I'm realizing that I don't actually know how to write espionage. Reassuring, isn't it? This story is much harder than _Soul Healing_.

Thanks to those who're giving it a chance, though! *hugs*

mandassina: Wait and see. ;) And honestly, I'm not sure "fun" is the right word for the plot I've cooked up, lol.

Batteredpen: Lucas _really_ isn't sure about being partnered with her. XD

Just4Me: Bless you, love! That review made my day when I read it. :) There aren't very many Lucas stories out there, and most of those are Lucas/Ros or Lucas/Maya. I prefer OCs...obviously. They give you more opportunity for character development, since you're bringing in your own characters.

**Disclaimer:** I only own Varinia and the miscellaneous international agents/assets.

Enjoy! :)

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**Chapter 3: Mikhail Kolesnikov**

Lucas sat at his desk, reading Varinia's file, while he waited for the forensics results from Altan's flat. It was enlightening, to say the least. Born in Budapest, she was fluent in six languages, including Turkish, and had worked just about every linguistic job imaginable, from book translator and tour guide to interpreter for various international companies and government events. Interestingly, though, she hadn't attended university, but as he delved deeper into her background, he understood why not. Varinia was a polyglot, able to learn languages more easily than the average person. That, coupled with her extensive travels, made a career as a linguist almost mandatory.

He looked over at the woman with a newfound respect. Varinia caught his gaze and smiled, before returning her attention to the computer screen. Lucas glanced at her file again, then closed it, despite his curiosity. He suddenly felt like he was invading her privacy by reading it.

Harry came out of his office and addressed the team.

"I just got the forensics results. They found hair at the asset's flat that doesn't belong to him," he said. "They matched the foreign DNA to a Russian man named Mikhail Kolesnikov."

Ruth typed the name into her computer and brought up his file. Harry, Lucas, and Tariq gathered around it, Lucas motioning for Varinia to join them. He noticed she appeared somewhat uncomfortable, alternating between leaning against the desk and standing up straight. Then he remembered that not only was she amongst veritable strangers, this was also likely her first experience as a member of a team. Her translation work for MI6 must have been a solitary activity.

She looked up at him, perhaps sensing his scrutiny, and Lucas gave her a small smile. It seemed to put her at ease, because she stopped fidgeting and focused her attention on the picture of the blond man on Ruth's computer screen. Mikhail Kolesnikov. Although he was a high-level FSB operative, the man's name was unfamiliar, so Lucas doubted that MI5 had tangled with him previously.

"According to this, Kolesnikov has never been in London before," said Ruth. Now it became clear why the man's name hadn't rung a bell.

Tariq went back to his computer and typed a command into it. "I did a scan of London airport CCTV and found this footage." The computer was connected to a projector, so they saw the video of a blond man-Mikhail Kolesnikov-going through Heathrow's customs three days ago.

"So now we have a better estimate of when Altan disappeared," Lucas said. "But Turks and Russians? They don't have much of a history."

"But the Russians _do_ have a history of secrets," Varinia pointed out. "What if they're somehow responsible for the illnesses in Ardahan and Altan found out?"

Harry considered this, frowning. "It's possible," he said. "Why send a man from Russia, though? There are plenty of FSB agents here in London who would eagerly take the job."

"Maybe the London faction doesn't know about the motherland's actions in Turkey," Lucas suggested.

Ruth raised her eyebrows. "It certainly wouldn't be the first time communications broke down between Russia and its foreign operatives."

While they'd been theorizing, Tariq had run a more extensive search of Kolesnikov. The results were revealing.

"CCTV has captured him at all the major train stations, ports, and airports." He pulled up footage dated a few hours ago, from Heathrow. "He's either a fan of train and plane spotting, or he doesn't know where Altan is either."

"Which means the Russians didn't take him," Ruth deduced.

"So he disappeared on his own, then?" Varinia asked.

Lucas shared a grim look with Harry. "Or he was taken by someone else."

"Either way, we need to find out what Kolesnikov knows," said Harry. "Lucas?"

"I'm on it."

Harry nodded and turned to Varinia. "How's your Russian?"

"Conversational." The woman glanced warily at Lucas, who was tucking a gun into the waistband of his jeans and fitting his coms so that Tariq could direct him to Kolesnikov's location. "Why?"

"If the Russians are indeed responsible for the illnesses in Ardahan, there may be some record of it in their files. Tariq will get access to them and send them to you."

Varinia looked relieved. "Oh, good. For a second, I thought you'd wanted me to go with Lucas."

"In this case, Lucas is quite capable of handling the linguistics," Harry replied, with a wry smile.

Her eyebrows rose in surprise, and she glanced at the dark-haired spy, but he was already walking towards the lift. She returned to her desk and resumed perusing the Turkish documents, while Tariq scrounged up the Russian ones. The media hadn't yielded anything promising, so the tech whizz had accessed the government's files, and those were what she was currently wading through.

The last time she had read so much Turkish was when she was _in_ Turkey.

#

It was nearly 2 AM when Lucas returned to the Grid. He'd gone to the FSB safe house in which Kolesnikov was staying and found the Russian agent asleep. He had considered how simple it would be to pluck him from bed and bring him in, but then the Kremlin would know that MI5 suspected its involvement in whatever plot Altan had discovered and would act accordingly. Lucas needed the Russians to believe that they were secure, so he'd bugged Kolesnikov's flat and downloaded his SIM card, then silently slipped out the door.

In the car, he'd briefed Harry about the mission and forwarded the SIM card's information to Tariq to analyze. He didn't need to be there for that, so he stopped for some fish and chips and ate them leisurely by the river, while he considered how to proceed with the linguist.

Now, as he exited the lift, he saw that only Varinia remained in the office, sitting in front of her computer, her chin in her hand. She looked exhausted.

"Still here?" Lucas asked, pulling up a chair beside her. She'd moved on from the Turkish documents to the Russian ones.

"Yeah, I found a couple potential leads from Ardahan's main hospital, records of symptoms and such, but the files indicate that they weren't really cause for concern. Mundane things, like the flu and sore throats and fevers," she said, blinking tiredly. "So Harry thought the Russian stuff might yield more info."

"A lot of really nasty illnesses begin with mundane symptoms," Lucas reminded her.

"I know, and I've compiled a list of people for Tariq to check out. He's quite amazing with a computer."

Lucas chuckled. "Yeah, he's a real tech genius, that one." He glanced at Varinia out of the corner of his eye, as she yawned. "You look like you're about to fall over. Go home."

"But I need to finish this..." She gestured to her computer screen, filled with Cyrillic writing.

"There's no way you'll get through all those files today. Get some sleep and start fresh in the morning."

Varinia glimpsed the clock. 2:30 AM. "Christ, is that really the time?"

"Unfortunately," Lucas nodded. "Need a lift home?"

She smiled at him, and despite the weariness in her eyes, the effect was a pretty one.

"I'll be fine, thanks."

He waited for her to shut off her computer and don her coat, then walked with her towards the exit. When they were outside, she turned to him suddenly, an unreadable expression on her face.

"You speak Russian, don't you." It wasn't a question.

"I do. I spent a lot of time in Russia," he replied vaguely. "Was stationed in Moscow."

She seemed to accept his answer, for she nodded and began walking down the sidewalk. Lucas followed, though his car was parked in the garage. From her file, he knew she lived only a few blocks away, but it was late, and she didn't cut a very intimidating figure in her four-inch heels.

"Is your flat this way, too?" she asked. Her expression and tone were innocent, yet he suspected she was teasing him.

"No," he replied, putting his hands in his pockets. "But I fancy myself a gentleman."

"Walking a lady to her door." Varinia's lips twitched, as she glanced up at him. "Very gentlemanly behavior. I can't remember the last time a man escorted me home."

He also knew from her file that she was single, though why _that_ fact had stuck in his mind, he didn't know.

"An oversight I am pleased to rectify."

Lucas didn't see it in the dark, but Varinia blushed.

They walked in companionable silence, broken occasionally by the sounds of bars and clubs in the distance, until they reached Varinia's building. She unlocked the front door and turned to him.

"Thank you, Lucas," she said, smiling up at him. He couldn't help but reciprocate. "I feel bad, though, that you have to walk all the way back for your car."

He shrugged. "It's not far."

"No, it's not." He was probably imagining it, but there was something wistful in her expression then. However, as soon as it had appeared, it was gone, and she was raising up onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Or rather, later today."

Lucas nodded, surprised by her affectionate gesture, and watched her enter the building. Only when he heard the click of her heels as she climbed the stairs did he make his way back to the Grid.


	4. Chapter 4: Crimson Dawn

Oh God, I'm so late with this. I apologize. Now that my Thorin one-shot series is over, though, I can devote more time to this story. Because it definitely requires more time than my other stories... I'd written this Wednesday, then rewrote it three times because I'd originally given too much of the plot away. *Sigh*

Lucas' past is murky, and since I don't like the one the writers gave him (i.e. John Bateman), I made up some of it. I tried to make it fit, though.

I feel shaky with this fandom, so your interest and kind words are a huge help. *hugs*

Just4Me: Yeah, I'm not overly fond of Ros either, and I don't think she and Lucas had any romantic chemistry. They worked well together, but work compatibility does not a couple make. Lucas and Varinia are feeling each other out, just as I'm feeling _them_ out, so there will be a lot more dancing to come, lol. What can I say? I like slow-burn. And thank you, I'm so glad you're following this story. :)

Batteredpen: Thank you! I think every woman needs a little mystery. ;)

Sesshomaru's Babydoll: Yes, watch _Spooks_! And thank you. I'm going to have to go back to bare-boning chapters before I start writing, because there are too many things to keep in mind. How do spies do it?

mandassina: I don't know if I'd call a kiss on the cheek "fast" exactly, lol. He did a decent thing, and she thanked him for it. And don't worry, Varinia's a nice girl. :) Or at the very least, she's not trying to take over the world, haha.

**Disclaimer:** I only own Varinia.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 4: Crimson Dawn**

_Wednesday_

The names of the Turkish patients Varinia had given Tariq to check out were dead ends, except for one, Eda Büyük, a 76-year-old woman who had presented with flu-like symptoms at Ardahan's hospital. The doctor had given her a routine physical examination, then sent her home. Three days later, she was dead.

"Do we have the autopsy report?" Harry asked.

"Nope." Tariq refreshed his computer again. "It's not in the hospital's system, so it probably hasn't been done yet."

Varinia's brows creased, as she scanned Eda's medical records. "She has quite a history. According to this, she's had five surgeries, including to remove her gallbladder and part of her spleen."

"Are the two organs related?" Lucas asked, glancing over at the file, which was in Turkish. All he could deduce from it was that Eda's blood type was O negative and that she weighed fifty kilograms before her death.

"No. Her gallbladder was taken out because she had gallstones, while the splenectomy was a result of a car accident." Varinia scrolled to the third page of the woman's medical history. "Nevertheless, she certainly wasn't healthy. She had advanced diabetes, so they may not do an autopsy."

"But to die a few days after showing flu-like symptoms?" Ruth wondered.

Varinia shrugged. "Diabetes compromises the immune system, so the doctors might think it exacerbated the flu. Plus, she was missing half her spleen, so that, too, lowered her immune system."

"It's not unheard of for the elderly to die of the flu," Lucas said, nodding.

"If there is to be no autopsy, we must conduct one ourselves," Harry said, garnering bemused expressions from his team. "Tariq, dig deeper. Get a hold of the police report. Eda's body was found by her daughter, wasn't it?"

"It was," Tariq confirmed. "I'll forward them to you, Varinia, once I've got them."

"In the meantime, keep searching through the Russian documents," Harry instructed Varinia. "If she really did die of the illness Altan warned us about, the Russians are definitely involved."

She nodded and got to work. An hour later, Varinia had translated the Turkish police report on Eda's death but had still discovered nothing relevant in the Russian files.

"She was found, quite literally, in a pool of her own vomit." Varinia averted her gaze from the photograph accompanying the description. It depicted a gruesome sight-an old woman lying on her side on a cream-colored carpet, with a pile of bloody vomit by her mouth. "The police estimate she'd only been dead a few hours, as the first stage of decomposition hadn't set in yet. Apparently, the family requested a postmortem exam, scheduled for this Friday, so we'll get an autopsy report after all."

"Did the police mention anything about her symptoms?" Ruth asked.

"Apart from noting she had a rash on her neck here..." Varinia pointed to a close-up photograph of Eda, "...no, they didn't. But they wrote two pages on the state of her home and whether her doors and windows were locked."

Lucas' lips twitched. "Ah well, it's their job to rule out foul play."

"She probably asphyxiated on her own vomit," Varinia retorted. "Unless she was poisoned, which wouldn't be determined until a tox screen anyway, I fail to see how murder is even an option."

"Poison gas," Tariq quipped, the comment earning a mock-glare from the linguist.

"Can we get back on topic, please?" Harry requested. "Does her medical record say anything about a rash?"

"No," Varinia replied. "So it must've manifested after her check-up. Honestly, from her signs and symptoms so far, she could have had just about anything."

"Meningitis?" Ruth suggested. "It's deadly and wouldn't even require manipulation in a lab."

"There's a vaccine against it," Lucas said. "Not to mention, bacterial meningitis, the more severe form, can be treated successfully with antibiotics."

"Unless they create a new strain that's antibiotic-resistant and a lot more contagious," Varinia pointed out.

"They could do that with the flu," Tariq said. "It's already extremely contagious, and if they engineered a more lethal variant, it would cause a pandemic."

Lucas shook his head. "Influenza is a retrovirus, and retroviruses are notoriously difficult to mess with, since they alter themselves all the time."

Harry turned to Ruth. "Call that infectious disease specialist, Dr. Gallagher. We may need her on hand soon." He glanced at Lucas, giving him a small nod, before returning to his office.

Lucas followed Harry and placed two dossiers on his desk. The head of section D opened the first one.

"Our Russian's been talking an awful lot with Moscow," Lucas explained. "It's only been about twelve hours since I bugged his flat, and he's already called home twice. The bastard's clever, though, only talks in code."

Harry looked up at Lucas. "Is the code in Russian?"

"Mostly," Lucas said, crossing his arms. "There are random English words thrown in, like the names of famous people who couldn't possibly have anything to do with whatever they're planning, as they're either fictional or dead." He met his boss' gaze, a grave expression on his face. "Harry, this could be a lot more serious than we originally thought."

That possibility was not lost on the senior spy. He scanned the folder containing Kolesnikov's SIM card information again, then closed it, his mouth set in a grim line.

"Do you understand what Kolesnikov is saying?"

Lucas flipped through the second dossier to a transcript of Kolesnikov's bugged phone conversations. He pointed to a sentence a quarter of the way down the page.

"I think Basil Argyros is Altan."

"From Harry Turtledove's short stories. Clever," Harry mused aloud. He read the sentence, then the rest of the conversation. "So the Russians have no idea where he is."

"No, but neither do we."

At that moment, Ruth poked her head in.

"Actually, we do."

The folders were forgotten, as Harry and Lucas joined Tariq by his computer.

"His trail went cold about a week ago, but look at this."

Tariq pulled up a forum about the British Midlands, where a user named "Crimson Dawn" praised stilton cheese, saying it was superior to other cheeses, including one called _kasar_.

Harry's brows furrowed. "How do you know Crimson Dawn is Altan?"

"Because Altan means 'red dawn' in Turkish, and one of the cheeses he compared stilton to is a Turkish cheese." Varinia smiled triumphantly. "It's normally written with an s-cedilla, but that might've been too obvious." At her companions' blank stares, she clarified, "It's an 's' with a little hook hanging off of it."

"I had no idea that thing had a name!" Tariq grinned, then cleared his throat when Harry glanced at him. "Sorry. Continue."

"Tariq did a quick search and learned that stilton was first produced near a village called Hungarton in Leicestershire."

"So that's where Altan is hiding," Lucas deduced, already donning his coat. "The Midlands are about a two-hour drive. I can make it there and back today."

"Excellent work," Harry said, with a rare smile. "Varinia, go with Lucas. If Altan is afraid, hearing a familiar language might help. Tariq, can you delete that comment from the forum? We don't want our Russian friend finding it and beating us to our asset."

The tech whizz nodded. "I'm on it."

Lucas and Varinia took the lift to the garage, where he unlocked a black Audi A6.

"Nice car," she said, sliding into the passenger seat. "But I still can't get used to the fact that not only do you Brits drive on the wrong side of the road, but you also drive on the wrong side of the _car_."

"On the contrary," said Lucas, pulling out of the garage. "It's everyone else that drives on the wrong side."

"Were cars invented in England, that you claim a monopoly on driving?" she asked, a brow lifting in amusement.

A half-smile graced Lucas' lips. "No, but you can't call it wrong when you're _in_ the UK, love." He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, as they stopped at a red light. "Stuck with me again, then."

"It would seem so," she replied, crossing her legs. The motion caused the hem of her skirt to ride up, exposing a shapely thigh covered by sheer, black tights. Lucas noticed. "I'm beginning to think you're the only spy MI5 has."

"Or the best," he smirked, and Varinia snorted. "Or maybe we're paired up again because between the two of us, we can communicate with most of Europe and Eurasia."

Her amusement vanished, and she looked at him with an unreadable expression.

"You read my file."

"I did," he replied. Lucas saw a shadow flit across her face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said, staring out the window. There wasn't much to see, as they were passing through the outskirts of London on the way to the M11. "It's just that now you know everything about me, while I barely know anything about you."

"You know I speak Russian," Lucas pointed out. "And I don't know everything. Just your basic bio." Varinia raised her eyebrows skeptically. "And maybe a bit more," he admitted. "It's how it-"

"Works, I know," she interrupted, sighing. "It's just weird that you know my marital status and shoe size."

"I actually stopped reading before I got to your shoe size." He saw her lips twitch and continued. "We have two hours. I think that's plenty of time to start to get to know each other." Varinia flashed him a bright smile that made him feel like a schoolboy again. Placing both hands on the wheel, he asked, "Do you want to go first, or should I?"

"You," she replied. "To even out the board a bit."

"Okay." Lucas paused, remembering what he'd learned about Varinia from her file. "I grew up in rural Cumbria, about as far away from London and espionage as I could be. Dad's a Methodist minister, and Mum's a teacher, which is pretty normal for that area. I try to visit a few times a year, but to be honest, there's really not much to do there."

Varinia giggled. "I would have never pegged you as a country boy or as the son of a minister."

"No, I've come a long way from that," he agreed.

"What about schooling?"

"University in Leeds," Lucas replied. He glanced in his mirrors and changed lanes. "Studied literature."

"Really?" Her eyes widened in surprise.

Lucas grinned at her expression. "It's true. I'm an avid admirer of William Blake."

She made a noise, which he took to mean acknowledgement. "Kind of strange for a Spook to like William Blake, isn't it? One supports the government, while the other distrusts it."

"You'd be surprised how many of us distrust governments," Lucas said dryly. "I think this profession requires it. Or breeds it," he murmured. "There's too much shady, underhanded stuff that goes on for one to be naive about the government."

"It's overwhelming sometimes," Varinia admitted. "I would be translating an order for a secret assassination in Russia one minute, then a clandestine conversation about a planned revolt in Prague the next." She glanced out the window, at the countryside passing by in a blur of green. "This job has definitely bred distrust of institutions."

He felt sympathetic towards her. She was comparatively young and had been unceremoniously dumped into the international political cauldron, which was always in danger of boiling over. Lucas took his left hand off the wheel to briefly touch hers. She looked at him sharply, curiously.

"How did you start working for Six?"

"I was recruited in Budapest," she said, with a laugh. "I'd taken a job as a tour guide, and I guess one of their agents noticed I was decent at languages. He followed me into St. Stephen's Bazilika and offered me a job."

"I would say you're more than just _decent_ at languages," he remarked pointedly. "How did you learn them all?"

She gave him a little smile. "You saw my lack of university, then." He nodded. "I learned them by listening and speaking, really. It's astonishing how quickly one learns a language when immersed in it."

"The moving around."

"The moving around," she affirmed. "My dad was a diplomat, so he was sent to neighboring countries. That's how I learned Czech, Romanian, and German." Varinia shrugged. " Afterwards, I kept moving around because that was how I'd grown up."

"Didn't you ever miss home?"

"Budapest, you mean? Yeah, more and more," she replied. "But for a while, Prague, Bucharest, and Vienna were home, too. I can't say I miss Prague or Bucharest, though. The people weren't very nice to Hungarians."

"And Russian?"

"I learned that one from some friends," she said. "I visited Moscow with my parents a few times, but the trips were never very long. It's why I'm not fluent." Varinia turned in her seat to face him. "But _you_ are. Did you learn while you were stationed there?"

Lucas was silent, considering how much he should tell her. Ever since returning to England, he'd barely spoken about Moscow or Lushanka, unless it was relevant to a case. He still couldn't shake those eight years. In fact, after Sarah's betrayal and death, he'd probably regressed in his coping.

"No," he said finally. "I actually learned Russian from my ex-wife."

"You were married?" Varinia asked, agape. He arched a brow, amused, and she realised her exclamation could be misconstrued. "I don't mean that in the way it sounded. I'm just surprised you could make a marriage work." His lips twitched when she grimaced. "That sounded bad, too. I'll shut up now."

Lucas laughed, a deep, hearty sound that brought a smile to Varinia's flushed face.

"I know what you meant," he reassured her. "I never told Elizabeta what I was."

"Wow," she breathed. "How did you keep that a secret? It's not the most conventional of professions."

"It wasn't easy," Lucas said. "She thought I worked in government, so that accounted for the late nights, early mornings, and unexpected trips. But there were times when I nearly told her."

"Why didn't you?"

"She was Russian," he said simply.

"Did you think she would betray you to the FSB?"

"No," Lucas replied firmly. "But if the FSB were watching her, I was afraid they would use her against me."

"It's a miracle they didn't."

"A miracle," he echoed. Varinia looked at him curiously but didn't question him. "She's remarried with a kid now."

"Did you have children?"

He shook his head and smiled wistfully. "No, but we talked about having them. I think we would have, too, had we not separated." He glanced at Varinia, who was regarding him sadly. "I've made peace with it. Everything happens for a reason, right?"

"I suppose so," she said uncertainly. Lucas wondered if there was a hidden meaning behind her words. Did she know about Sarah? After all, she worked for Six and had undoubtedly heard gossip, but Nightingale would have been well above her clearance. If not Sarah, then maybe someone had told her about Lushanka.

But before he could ascertain just how much she knew, Varinia asked, "How far is Cumbria from the Midlands?"

"Far," he replied, glad for the topic change. "It's in Northwest England, right on the border with Scotland."

"So your native accent is Northern English," she said, grinning. "Go on."

He chuckled. "Maybe on the drive back. We're nearly there."

"Spoilsport," she muttered, but she was still smiling.

As Lucas eased off the highway, he was surprised at how quickly and enjoyably those two and a half hours had passed.


	5. Chapter 5: Hungarton

This chapter practically wrote itself, which is why I can post it early. I really like it. :)

Just4Me: I don't know if I'd say Varinia has trust issues (I don't know her well enough yet), but Lucas certainly does. I think, though, he feels a bit less shaky with Varinia than with Sarah because she's _so not_ a spy. Still, you're right; he's cautious. It gives me an excuse to write scenes like the ones in the car. XD

westwingnut221: Haha, I know what you mean! I hate delayed gratification, too, but I thoroughly enjoy subjecting my characters to it. ;) And I'm quite pleased you heard Richard's laugh when Lucas laughed. That's what I'd intended. I really love that man's laugh! :D

Batteredpen: *nods* While this story _does_ have a romantic thread, the plot is equally important (though harder to write?). I worked as a forensic anthropologist, so I'm not keen to gloss over the gruesome aspects. I actually quite like them, as morbid as that sounds. They're necessary.

Skatingfaery: Hello! I remember you from _Soul Healing_ and the one-shot series. It's lovely to see you. :)

redhouseclan: Thanks! I'm pleased you like Varinia. :)

*squeals* With each chapter, I get more and more follows and reviews. Thank you!

Enjoy. :)

* * *

**Chapter 5: Hungarton**

Hungarton was a small village in the East Midlands, barely even qualifying as a blip on the map. Many of the houses dated back to the 1700s, but the settlement itself was far older than that. Boasting a church, a village hall, a pub, and plenty of greenery, its claim to fame rested in stilton cheese, which was first produced at nearby Quenby Hall. Varinia found Hungarton quaint, but Lucas was unimpressed.

"It looks like any old English village."

"Like your hometown?"

"Exactly," he agreed. "Dull, quiet, and empty."

"I don't think it'll be dull for long," she murmured.

They drove around the village twice, scanning the historical houses for any clues as to which one their asset was hiding in. They weren't very colorful, Varinia thought, unlike the houses in Hungarian villages, but the brick somehow added to Hungarton's charm. The people on the street eyed the black Audi uncertainly, sometimes suspiciously, particularly when it made its second round.

"He'd choose a house amongst the others," Lucas said. "To disappear in the crowd, as it were."

"But maybe not on the main road. It's the first place someone would look."

He nodded and turned down a side street, one of three in the small settlement. Nothing about these houses stood out either, and Varinia was becoming frustrated.

"Maybe we got it wrong," she suggested. "Saw what we wanted to see. Crimson Dawn could really just be a cheese-lover from the Midlands who happened to sample Turkish cheese somewhere."

"It's too coincidental," Lucas said, with a shake of his head. He turned left onto the second side street and stopped to allow a few kids on bikes to cross. They did so slowly, admiring the car. It was then that he caught a glimpse of a dark face peering through the curtains of one of the houses.

"Gotcha."

Varinia brightened. "Where?"

"Number 207." He drove past the house and parked around a bend. At her questioning glance, he said, "Why should the Russians have it easier?"

They walked along the sidewalk towards 207, Lucas surreptitiously taking in his surroundings. Only a handful of people were out and about, and they paid little attention to the two of them.

"You think they know?"

He shrugged and lowered his voice when they passed a middle-aged man.

"His comment hadn't been up on the forum for long, but you never know with our friends."

Bending down to retie his shoelace, Lucas waited until the street was clear before climbing the steps to Altan's house. He withdrew the gun from his coat, cocked it, and gave Varinia a meaningful look.

"We have no idea how he'll react," he warned softly. "So stay behind me."

She nodded, shifting restlessly from one boot-clad foot to the other, while Lucas rang the doorbell. No response, but he hadn't really expected one. Pulling out a pick, he made quick work of the lock and silently pushed open the door. He entered slowly, gun held out in front of him, blue eyes darting around the dim foyer. Varinia closed the door soundlessly and followed, stepping carefully so that her heels made as little noise as possible.

Only when they were far enough away from the entrance did Lucas call out.

"It's British security services. We got your message."

No answer. They advanced into the living room but stopped abruptly when they saw what greeted them. Their asset stood by a sofa, pointing a Glock at Lucas, whose own gun was aimed at the man's chest. Varinia stifled a gasp as she watched the tense standoff, neither participant budging. Then she was inching forward, hands held up to show that she carried no weapon.

"What the hell are you doing?" Lucas demanded, not taking his gaze from the other man. The Turk eyed Varinia but made no move to stop her. So neither did the spy.

"_We're here to help_, _Altan,_" she said in Turkish, ignoring Lucas' question. "_Your clues led us here_."

The man's hand twitched, but he still didn't lower his gun. Varinia glanced at it and continued forward slowly, as though approaching a wounded animal.

"_I promise we're not here to hurt you_," she tried again. Her heart thudded in her chest, but she smiled reassuringly. "_You have information we need._"

Lucas, who had been observing Altan during Varinia's attempts, lowered his gun. Whether it was because of the linguist or because Lucas had done so first, Altan finally put down the Glock.

"I was not expecting a countrywoman," he said in English, his demeanor changing as he relaxed. "That was a nice touch."

Varinia laughed. "Oh, I'm not from Turkey. I just lived there for a while."

Before the two could reminisce about Istanbul or where ever they had been, Lucas stepped in.

"Is it safe?"

Altan nodded. "No bugs."

"We're MI5, and we really need to know what you discovered in Ardahan."

"You found my trousers, then," the Turk grinned. "Better you than whoever you're afraid might have been listening."

"So you don't know who's after you?" Varinia asked.

Altan shrugged. "It could be the Russians or the Chinese or even the Americans." He looked at Lucas wryly. "Or all three."

"The Americans, Chinese, and Russians working together?" she questioned, brows raising in disbelief. "Surely not."

The spy, better acquainted with the three nations than the linguist was, did not dismiss Altan's suggestion as readily.

"To our knowledge, only the Russians are currently involved," he said. "We need to get you to Thames House as soon as possible."

"Back to the lion's den?" the Turk scoffed. "I left London for a reason, and it certainly wasn't to gorge myself on stilton." He grimaced. "Terrible cheese."

Varinia giggled, while Lucas crossed his arms impatiently.

"You'll be safe there," he reassured. "Our tech guy deleted your comment from the forum, but there's still a chance the Russians saw it. The longer we remain here, the greater the risk of them finding you."

Altan turned to Varinia. "_Where in Turkey did you live?_"

She hesitated, surprised by the question. "Istanbul and Antalya."

"_Antalya_," the man smiled. "_I have fond memories of Antalya_." He glimpsed Lucas' scowl and said in English, "I believe that black Audi belongs to you?"

#

The drive back to London, thought Lucas, was decidedly less pleasant than the drive to Hungarton. Varinia chatted with Altan, in both English and Turkish, but their conversation included nothing relevant to the case. Lucas did, however, learn more about Turkish cuisine than he'd really cared to know, while his two companions exchanged favorite foods and restaurants. It was a blessing, really, when they reached the Grid.

The Turk's expression grew grim, as he listened to the team update him on what they'd learned.

"So, it's already begun," he said, staring at the postmortem picture of Eda Büyük.

"What exactly did you overhear?" Harry asked.

"Nothing," Altan replied. "A contact back in Istanbul heard rumblings of a potential disease outbreak in Ardahan. He didn't know much, just that something might happen soon."

"Okay." Lucas leant back against a desk and folded his arms. "But why tell you?"

The Turk shrugged. "We're friends. We'd worked together for years before I moved to England. Wouldn't you tell a trusted colleague and friend if you'd learned something potentially significant?"

The question was rhetorical but nevertheless a valid one.

"Did he not trust anyone in Istanbul?" Varinia asked.

"At that point, no. He had no idea if the murmurs were even true or if the government was involved."

"We found no evidence that your government is involved," Harry assured. "But that doesn't necessary rule out the possibility."

Altan smiled wryly. "No, it certainly does not." Then he glanced at Eda again and sobered. "But you think it was the Russians?"

"Again, we found no evidence in their documents," Harry said.

"But considering it was a Russian who turned your flat upside down, it's safe to say you know something they'd really rather keep quiet," Lucas added.

"What did Eda die of?"

"We don't know yet," Ruth answered.

"But you believe she is linked?"

"On the surface, her death may not appear to be suspicious, which is likely what the people responsible intended," Lucas explained. "But knowing what we know, it's a possibility, yes."

"A good possibility," Harry said gravely.

"It's too coincidental," remarked Varinia, smiling slightly. She echoed Lucas' words to her in Hungarton. "And let's face it, if the Russians _are_ involved, biological weapons aren't exactly a stretch for them."

"Can you get in contact with your friend?" Harry asked. "He may know more by now."

Altan nodded and pulled out his mobile, which had already been checked over and deemed safe by Tariq. The SIM card was registered to a false name, making tracking it to the Turk difficult. That was why his trail had seemingly gone cold when Ruth and Tariq were searching for him.

The line rang and rang, but no one picked up. Altan tried again, with the same result. A sense of foreboding settled upon the people in the office.

"Maybe he doesn't answer unknown numbers," Varinia suggested hopefully, but her strained smile betrayed her concern.

"Or someone learned he knew something," Altan said darkly. "The Russians found out about _me_, after all."

Harry shared a grim look with Lucas. "This is no longer a domestic issue," he said. "We may need Six's help."

Varinia glanced sharply at the head of section D.

"You haven't told them yet?"

"Our priority was our asset," Harry replied brusquely. "And that does not concern Six."

"Yeah, but they may have known something we didn't," she insisted. "They have agents stationed in Turkey who could have heard the same whispers as Altan's friend."

"And if it all turned out to be merely rumour? We'd have been the sods crying wolf," Lucas said, eyes flashing with a warning. A warning that Varinia did not heed.

"I doubt Moscow would've sent a man to London because of rumours," she retorted dryly.

Before Lucas could reply, Ruth stepped in. "I can contact Marcus at Six, Harry."

"Tell him we'll meet somewhere," he said. "I'd rather do this in person."

Ruth nodded and went to her desk to do as requested. Harry turned to Altan.

"Thank you for your help," he said, shaking the Turk's hand. "We've a safe house set up for you. Unless you have any other information, Lucas and Varinia will take you to it now."

"Will you keep me updated on the situation?" Altan asked. "As you can imagine, I would prefer to know if there is to be an epidemic in my country."

"Of course," Harry assured. "And if we establish contact with your friend, we'll give him your regards."

Altan grinned and clapped a hand to Harry's back. "You English are so accommodating."

Lucas smiled a touch derisively, as he led the way to the garage.

#

After dropping off Altan at the safe house, Lucas had a bone to pick with the linguist.

"You did a reckless thing earlier." Varinia furrowed her eyebrows, so he clarified. "Approaching a man with a gun unarmed."

"I was doing my job," she retorted, fidgeting in her seat. Lucas noticed she did that when irritated or uncomfortable.

"He could have shot you, Varinia."

"Do you think that didn't cross my mind?" she huffed and tugged at the sleeves of her cardigan. "I froze at first, because I'd never had a gun pointed at me before." She paused, frowning. "Well okay, it was pointed at _you_, but that makes no difference." Lucas glanced at her curiously, but she didn't elaborate.

"Then why did you approach him when I'd told you to stay behind me?"

"Because he was afraid, too," Varinia replied. "Like Altan said, he hid for a reason. Besides, Harry told me to talk to him in Turkish, so I did."

"You could've done that from behind me," Lucas pointed out.

"True," she agreed. "But I figured he would be less likely to shoot me than you."

"Yes, as you were unarmed," he said. "But your safety is nevertheless my responsibility."

"And I _was _safe," she replied. "Or else Altan would be sporting a nice little bullet hole right now." Lucas opened his mouth, but she cut him off. "I'm sorry for being contrary. I do appreciate what you're saying."

He clenched his jaw, unsure what to say to that. He'd planned to lecture her, to scold her, but her apology had taken the wind out of his sails. From the moment he'd met Varinia, she had been consistently disarming him in one way or another.

"Good," he muttered. "Because Six'll have my head if something happens to you."

She laughed at that. "No, they won't. They'll just find another linguist."

They drove in silence after that, each lost in his or her thoughts, until they crossed Lambeth Bridge.

Lucas glanced at the clock on the dashboard.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

Varinia looked startled, by the question or by the sudden break in silence, he didn't know.

"Yes, actually." Her answer was accompanied by a grumble, and she pressed a hand to her stomach in embarrassment. "Apparently a lot hungrier than I realised."

"A hazard of the job," Lucas quipped, with a half-smile. "What's your fancy?"

"I could do with a good burger," she said, then laughed at the surprise on his face. "What's that look?"

"What look?" he asked, instantly schooling his expression to one of casual interest.

"The look that says, 'I thought women only ate salads'," she retorted.

Lucas' lips twitched, which happened quite often in the company of the linguist.

"You must have been mistaken."

"Of course," Varinia agreed. "I'm also obviously imagining the smile that's threatening to form." He nearly _did_ smile at that. "I like burgers," she said, shrugging. "I don't eat them every day, mind you, but I believe moderation is the key to happiness."

"And to that figure," Lucas murmured. Varinia pretended not to hear him, but as she gazed out the window at the Thames, she couldn't suppress a grin.


	6. Chapter 6: Ankara

It's been a rough week, which is why this chapter is kind of short. But at least it's on time.

Batteredpen: Well, I wouldn't say Lucas was annoyed because Varinia and Altan were speaking in Turkish. I think he's just focused on the mission. That's the impression I got of him from the show anyway. Or maybe it's what another reviewer suggested-he's jealous of how well she and Altan get along. *shrugs* To each her own interpretation.

ayshin79: Oops, if you're only halfway through series 8, I _may_ have spoiled the ending for you... Sorry! And thank you. :) I'm glad you're enjoying the slow-burn!

Lilibeth: Oh, I know. Part of the reason I felt the urge to write this story is because there are so few Lucas stories out there. Thank you!

Just4Me: I think perhaps Elizabeta was the closest he's met to Varinia. She's kind of naive (or was, until she worked for the FSB) and honest, too. Lucas has a duty to protect her, but I also think that because she's inexperienced in fieldwork, he takes that responsibility even more seriously. "Disarmed by her honesty." I like that! :)

mandassina: Really, you think Altan is a baddie? Huh, interesting. I didn't intend to make him out that way. I spent nearly two weeks in Turkey two summers ago, and a lot of the Turkish men I met were like Altan-"chummy". That's a good word for it. I also think that perhaps Lucas was just impatient to get on with the mission, which is why he may have seemed jealous of Altan. *shrugs*

Skatingfaery: Aw, I'm glad I could _almost_ make you smile. ;)

Thank you to my silent readers, as well. You all make my day a little brighter. :)

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 6: Ankara**

When Harry liaised with MI6, he'd learned one of their operatives stationed in Ankara had dug around and discovered that Altan's friend had indeed gone missing, two days after Kolesnikov had arrived in London. The two events could not have been coincidence. It was becoming readily apparent that something was happening in Turkey and that the Russians were involved.

Altan bore the news of his friend's disappearance heavily.

"I don't really know how these things work," he said, knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the desk. "Is there a chance he could be alive?"

Harry exchanged a glance with Lucas.

"The Russians may want to question him about what he knows," Harry replied. "Perhaps to learn government secrets."

"But when he stops being useful to them, they'll kill him."

Altan looked startled by Lucas' candor. Varinia glared at the spy and placed a hand on the Turk's shoulder.

"Agents in Turkey are searching for him as we speak," she reassured. "He may have voluntarily gone into hiding, like you. But even if he was abducted, he may still be alive. Either way, I'm sure they'll find him."

Altan gave her a wan smile and stood. "Thank you for keeping me in the loop, as you English call it. I think I'd like to go back to the safe house now."

Harry nodded. "Lucas?"

The spy suppressed a scowl at being reduced to a chauffeur and slipped on his coat. Varinia would not be accompanying him this time, because she was in the process of translating the Turkish officials' conversations that Six had acquired. Lucas tried to ignore the stab of disappointment he felt. He had grown accustomed to their shared commutes more quickly than he'd realised.

Or was comfortable with.

Before he got into the lift, Varinia flashed him a smile. He was tempted to return it.

#

When she finished her translations, Varinia took the transcripts into Harry's office, along with Eda's autopsy write-up that she had completed earlier.

"I think they know something's not right," she said. "Look at this." Harry scanned the sheet of paper she handed to him and frowned. "They don't mention Ardahan by name, but they _do_ allude to Eda Büyük."

"Yes, as the 'sick woman recently found by police'," Harry replied. "That's not exactly calling her by name."

"It's vague, I grant you that," Varinia acceded. "But it's also kind of arbitrary when used out of context. Why would two prominent government officials be discussing an unnamed sick woman?"

Harry read the transcript again, considering. "We'll stay in contact with Six. Perhaps they'll discover more."

Varinia nodded. "Also, Tariq's finally got the results of Eda's autopsy." She slid a second sheet of paper in front of him. "Harry, I think they're covering something up."

He was silent, while he skimmed the report. When he set it down, his expression was somber.

"The pathologist makes no mention of the flu but writes that she died of natural causes."

"A person who dies of natural causes does not vomit up blood," she remarked dryly.

"Not usually, no," Harry agreed. He placed the translations back into their folder and regarded Varinia thoughtfully. "I'd like to have one of our men...and women...in Ankara. Would you be willing to go?"

She looked surprised. "I'm not technically MI5."

"No, but Lucas is," Harry replied, his lips twitching. "And he'll need someone familiar with the country and language."

"I see," said Varinia guardedly. "And how does Lucas feel about this?"

"He doesn't know yet. When he returns from dropping off Altan, I will brief him." Harry saw that she still looked uncertain. "It is prudent for MI5 to learn exactly what's happening, because with the Russians involved, who knows where they'll strike next. It could very well be England. Or Hungary."

Varinia nodded and sat down across from Harry. "That Kolesnikov. Has he said anything useful?"

"He believes Altan is being protected by us, but Tariq is certain the Russians cannot infiltrate our network of safe houses." Harry gave her a strained smile. "Just to be sure, though, we've moved him to a new location that's not in the system."

"But nothing about stepping up the operation?" She looked down at her hands, smiling sheepishly. "Is that even the proper way to say that?"

Amusement danced in Harry's eyes. "That's the proper terminology," he affirmed. "But no, Moscow has been rather quiet about that. Either the Russians suspect we're listening, or they're being more patient than usual. Neither option is encouraging."

"They may have discussed a contingency plan before Kolesnikov came to London," she suggested.

"Which is why Tariq is tracing his movements via mobile signal and CCTV," Harry agreed. "But they've all been fairly innocent thus far."

Varinia raised her eyebrows. "That _is_ disconcerting."

Before Harry could reply, Lucas walked into the office, looking surprised to see Varinia there.

"I'll get back to Ruth," she said, standing. "We were going through the files on some of the Turkish government officials."

"No, stay," said Harry and motioned for Lucas to take the chair beside hers. "After all, this concerns you, as well."

Lucas glanced at her, but she was intently studying her hands, which rested folded in her lap.

"Lucas, I'd like you and Varinia to go to Ankara. I don't think I need to tell you why." Harry gave him a meaningful look. The spy understood it. "How soon can you leave?"

"Immediately," Lucas replied. Varinia looked up, startled, and he nearly smiled. "If there's a flight this evening, we can be on it." That seemed to placate her, for she nodded in assent.

Harry briefed Lucas on Eda's postmortem results and on the Russians' curious inactivity, then sent him and Varinia on their way.

"I'll pick you up at your flat in two hours. Is that enough time to pack?"

"Yeah, of course," she replied, coloring slightly. He found her blush endearing. "It's not like we're going for months."

Lucas smirked. "No, but women overpack."

"And men _under_pack," she retorted, as they got into the lift. "What if you run out of underpants?"

"Then I wash them," he replied, arching his brow.

"True, but I'm not sure I'd want my knickers on display."

"Well, _I_ certainly wouldn't mind," he said, with a cheeky smile. Varinia laughed and headed for the exit, but Lucas touched her wrist. "It's faster if I drive you."

"You really _are_ a chauffeur," she teased, grinning when he scowled. "But you're not too keen on Altan, are you."

"He's...forward." Lucas started the car and backed out of the parking spot. She waited for him to elaborate, but he was silent.

"A lot of Turkish men are like that," Varinia explained. "Especially during Ramadan, when the rules of Islamic propriety are relaxed. I like the Turks. They were always friendly and helpful when I lived over there."

"Are you glad to be going back, then?"

"Yes and no," she replied. "I'm glad to see Turkey again, but the circumstances are less than ideal."

"They are," he agreed. "But maybe you can take me to that restaurant you and Altan like so much."

"That's in Istanbul. We're going to the capital, Ankara."

"Then we take a trip to Istanbul," Lucas said, with a shrug. Varinia smiled at him, as he pulled up in front of her building. "I'll see you in two hours." She nodded and got out of the car, giving him a slight wave before unlocking the door.

She wasn't sure how long they would be in Turkey, but she knew that the two of them would be spending far more time with each other than they had thus far. The thought simultaneously filled Varinia with excitement and anxiety.


	7. Chapter 7: Turkish Holiday

**Please read:** When I posted the previous chapter (chapter 6), it was titled "Istanbul," because apparently I'd forgotten that it wasn't the capital and therefore would have neither the Turkish government nor a British embassy. Then I remembered that shit, Ankara is the capital and quickly fixed it, but by then, I think a couple of you had already read it. So I apologize. I just wanted to let you all know, so that when you read this chapter, you're not confused that suddenly L+V are in Ankara, instead of Istanbul.

Interestingly, while researching for this chapter, I also stumbled across some info about MI5/MI6. Apparently, agents don't usually carry guns; they're more diplomats than spies at this point. But since I'm following _Spooks_, I decided to knowingly disregard this fact.

BlissfulBlink7: Thank you! I'm pleased you are enjoying the story so far. :) And I hope I won't disappoint!

Just4Me: Baby steps. Each chapter brings them closer, because I'm conniving that way. XD Yes, I like Altan, too, and I guess I subconsciously modeled him after some of the Turkish men I met in Istanbul.

ayshin79: Phew! I'm glad I didn't spoil the end of series 8 for you. The writers really screwed up with Lucas' story in series 9. There was no basis for it in the previous two series. For goodness' sake, if he survived 8 years of Russian prisons without blabbing official secrets, he won't do what he did in series 9 for an old flame. Anyway, I'm tickled pink you're enjoying my take on L's story. :) Thank you!

mandassina: You're right; it's a sweeping generalization. However, I know a lot of perfectly practical and sensible women who overpack. In fact, I don't think I know _any_ woman who doesn't overpack, lol. *shrugs* We write what we know. I think he's starting to admit to himself he likes her, or is at least intrigued by her. She's not like Sarah, and I think, at this point, that's refreshing. And yes, third person omniscient is a very handy point-of-view to write in for that very reason. :)

Batteredpen: Not much plot stuff in this chapter. It was hard to get started (RL, blech), so I took it easy and went for fun over plot (because plot is _bloody_ hard for me). Lots of L+V interaction, though! Hence the fun, haha.

Thank you all for the lovely reviews. *hugs*

**Disclaimer:** Lucas North, regretfully, belongs to BBC and Richard Armitage. But oh the things I would do that man if he were mine...

Enjoy!

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**Chapter 7: Turkish Holiday**

To Lucas' surprise, March in Ankara was a lot like March in London, except sunnier. Varinia reveled in it, tilting her face up to the sky, while they waited for a taxi to take them to the flat Tariq had found. Lucas watched appreciatively, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"London's clouds must have been quite a change for you."

"Oh, they were," she affirmed. "Even in Hungary, we have lots of sunshine in spring. It's just the winter that's dreary."

"Are you calling my country dreary?" he asked, in mock-insult.

Varinia pushed her sunglasses atop her head and looked at him. Amusement danced in her eyes. "Yes," she said. "Because on some days, the sun only comes out for an hour or so before it sets."

"That's probably why we're so pasty." Varinia laughed softly, as she moved aside to allow the taxi driver to lift their luggage into the car. She slid into the backseat, and Lucas followed. "Does it snow in Turkey?"

"It did in Istanbul when I lived there," she replied. "Was kind of sporadic, though. Not like in Hungary, where it snows with a vengeance." Varinia made a face, her nose scrunching up slightly. "I can't say I miss _that_."

Lucas remembered Russian winters and silently agreed. The heating in Lushanka had worked haphazardly at best, and even when it was functional, the Russians had used it sparingly. Many inmates had suffered frostbite and hypothermia. A few had died. Lucas was fortunate that Darshavin had seemed to care about his wellbeing between interrogations, but the extra blanket and socks were nevertheless scant protection when it dropped to freezing inside. The days and nights of shivering... In some ways, those were worse than the torture sessions, because at least the pain had eventually stopped. But he still felt that cold in his bones.

He must have let something slip-in his eyes, perhaps-, because Varinia was watching him curiously.

"I was just thinking about winters back home," Lucas said. He quickly dismissed thoughts of Lushanka. "They were cold and wet, but Cumbria is _always_ cold and wet."

If she suspected he had lied, she didn't show it. Grinning, Varinia concluded, "I don't think I'd like Cumbria, then."

They rode on in silence after that, watching as the outskirts of the city gave way to grander buildings. Their flat was near the government district, along with MI6's Turkish base, but the area was not familiar to Varinia. When she'd visited Ankara, it had been for the historical sights only.

After Lucas swept the modern, two-bedroom flat for bugs and cameras, they discussed how they would proceed.

"We'll be working with Six on this," explained Lucas, sitting across from Varinia at the kitchen table. "They have a reliable contact in the government who knows about the situation in Ardahan. She will provide us with the information we need to track specific officials."

"And because we're posing as English tourists, we can get close to them without arousing suspicion?" Varinia checked.

"Exactly," Lucas nodded. "All you have to do is listen to their conversations." Her features clouded with something akin to worry, and he felt the urge to reassure her. "I'll be with you the entire time."

"But it's not just for my protection, is it? Harry thinks my loyalty is to MI6."

"Well, you _are_ one of theirs," he replied. "But in this case, our objective is in line with Six's. Neither one of us wants that mystery illness in England."

"No," she agreed. "But I'm not here just for England. Geographically, Central Europe is closer to Turkey than the UK is. If this disease spreads, it'll go there first."

"Hungary," he said, understanding. Lucas took her hand and squeezed it gently. "We'll get to the bottom of this before that happens."

"I hope so." Although she smiled, her eyes still held uncertainty.

Lucas regarded her pensively, then stood. "How would you like to work off some of that anxiety?"

"If you're suggesting exercise, I'd rather not."

He laughed. "No, not exercise."

"Sex?" she quipped, smiling mischievously. "I guess that's exercise, but it's a lot more enjoyable."

"No, not sex either." Though the suggestion was certainly an intriguing one. "But this is nearly as effective."

He led her out of the flat and down the sidewalk. At the corner, he paused, as if considering which way to go.

"Did you get lost?" she asked flatly. A chill breeze blew, and Varinia zipped up her leather jacket.

"Maybe," he admitted. "Tariq gave me directions to Six's headquarters," Lucas said, breaking off as he crossed the street. "But I didn't pay much attention."

"Men," Varinia muttered. "Turn right at the next intersection."

Lucas looked at her dubiously. "You said you've never been to this area before." Still, at the next intersection, he turned right.

"I haven't," she affirmed. "But I _have_ read a map."

"You wouldn't happen to have that map with you now, would you?"

"No," she said. "But bringing it would've been smart."

They followed the sidewalk for two blocks, then turned left. The street curved around a park and opened up into grassy plots dominated by large, white buildings. One of them bore the British coat of arms, with its rearing lion and unicorn.

"Is that the embassy?" Varinia asked innocently, but her smug grin was at odds with her tone.

He gave a long-suffering sigh and placed a hand on her lower back to guide her forward.

"Come on, before I change my mind."

When they entered the building, Lucas and Varinia showed their IDs to the guards and were admitted through security. A tall man with graying hair met them in the atrium.

"Mr North, Ms Erdélyi, it's a pleasure to have you here," he said, shaking their hands in turn. "I'm Clive Bolton, head of MI6's operations in Turkey. As I understand it, you need equipment?"

Varinia glanced at Lucas, who nodded.

"Would it be possible to try out a few guns first?"

"Of course," Clive replied. "I'll take you down myself." They piled into the lift, and Clive held up his ID to the scanner. "Both of you have access to most of the building, including the shooting range, while you're here in Ankara." He regarded Varinia curiously. "According to your file, you speak fluent Turkish, among other languages. We could use a polyglot out in the field."

Lucas bristled at the man's attempt to recruit Varinia but did not intervene. After watching the linguist diffuse the tense standoff with Altan, he had a new respect for her diplomatic abilities. And he was not disappointed this time either.

"I'm flattered," she said, indulging the man with a smile. "But my time in the field is temporary. Once I return to London, I resume my post as linguist."

"Well, if you reconsider, you'd only have to go through the training," said Clive. The elevator reached the basement, where they disembarked and entered into the shooting range. Through another security door were the guns.

"I'll leave you to it, then," he said. "My office is on the third floor, if you need anything. I just ask that you show security your gear on your way out."

"Of course," Lucas nodded. He waited for Clive to leave, then picked up a Glock 17 semiautomatic pistol and gave it to Varinia. "The Glock 17 is a lightweight, reliable gun that's easy to fire."

Varinia turned the black handgun this way and that, scrutinizing it.

"Isn't this what Altan had pointed at you?"

"Yes," Lucas replied, impressed that she'd remembered. "It's one of two pistols MI5 uses most often." He picked up a silver semiautomatic handgun with a black handle. "The other is the Beretta 92FS Inox."

"That one's bigger," she observed. "And probably heavier, so I'll stick with the Glock."

"It's also probably what you certified with," he said.

"It was." They fitted earplugs and entered the range. "I warn you, I haven't fired a gun since I got my license."

"That's why we're here," Lucas reassured. He knew Varinia was nervous about being out in the field but hoped that practicing her self-defence in a controlled environment would improve her confidence. She would most likely never have to use a gun, but it was always prudent to be prepared.

He watched her load and cock the pistol and take position. Her stance was good; both hands were on the gun, one around the handle and the other supporting from below. After a deep breath, she pulled the trigger and fired off first one shot, then two. He noticed that she tensed slightly when the spent casings were ejected, but her aim remained steady. Satisfied that she was competent, he loaded his Beretta and focused on his own targets.

Once they were finished, they compared marks. As expected, Lucas' aim was far better than Varinia's.

"Wow, I really suck," she remarked, glancing between her targets and his. Some were the classic, circular targets, while others were drawings and figures of people. She had managed to shoot one bullet through a vital body region but no bull's-eyes.

"If that figure had been a real person, he'd be bleeding pretty badly right now," Lucas said. "So I wouldn't say you suck."

"That was a lucky shot. I wasn't aiming."

He chuckled and pointed to another of her bullet holes. "Well, even a bullet to the hand can be effective."

"I was aiming for his head," she retorted. "I'm fine with my skill level. If someone needs shooting, I'll just leave it to you." She smiled at him, as they collected the used targets. "This helped with my anxiety about the mission, though, so thank you."

"My pleasure," he said, allowing a half-smile to grace his lips. "Ready to head back?"

"And have dinner?" she asked hopefully. "I'm starving."

"Then dinner it is."

Lucas held the door open for her, unable to resist a full smile this time.

#

Four hours and six bottles of beer later, Lucas and Varinia were sitting on the leather sofa in the living room.

"I can't believe you'd never had falafel before," the linguist said.

"Yes, I know," Lucas replied patiently. "You couldn't believe it the first two times you said it either."

"But it's _falafel_." Lucas was sure the alcohol had gone to her head, even though she'd only drank two and a half of the six beers. "It's garlicky, chick pea-ey, flavourful goodness."

"I didn't really have many opportunities to eat it until now," he said. That was an understatement, for the prisons in Russia had served the same food every day. If he never tasted brown bread or cabbage again, he would be happy. Even the sight of them now turned his stomach, when previously he'd liked both.

"The foods you will eat here," Varinia remarked wistfully. "Everything is full of spices and garlic. Kind of like Hungarian cooking, except with different spices."

Glad that the conversation was veering away from his apparent culinary deficits, Lucas refilled Varinia's glass with water and handed it to her.

"Drink. You're tipsy."

"Oh God, I know," she replied and sipped the water. "And after only two beers. I'm such a lightweight."

"At least you know your limit," he offered.

"Yeah, that I do. I've been drunk once and vowed never again." She grimaced, perhaps remembering the experience. "Plus, I knew a lot of really stupid drunks when I was younger. I just talk incessantly when I'm hammered."

"I get moody."

"Even more than you are already?" Lucas tried to look stern, and she giggled. "You don't smile much, do you."

"I do with you." Lucas shut his mouth, his jaw clenching, and silently berated himself for that confession. But when he saw Varinia blush, his irritation faded.

"I drank alcohol with you," she said. "And I don't drink alcohol with just anybody." Lucas' breath faltered, as she moved closer to him on the sofa. Placing a hand on his thigh, Varinia stretched up to kiss his cheek, allowing her lips to linger an instant longer than necessary. He was only slightly ashamed that he'd noticed the soft brush of her breasts against his arm. "I think I'm heading to bed. Good night, Lucas."

He covered her hand with his and squeezed it gently. "Sleep well, Varinia."


	8. Chapter 8: Turkish Tea

It's shameful how late this update is. I apologize but can't promise it won't happen again. :/ I've been really busy and tired, but I'll find more time and motivation to stay on schedule. As always, thank you for your feedback.

Just4Me: Oh yes, Ankara was specifically planned to bring L+V closer. ;) I really enjoy writing them, even more so than Thorin and Talaitha (because it's a little easier to tease using modern language, lol).

ayshin79: Thank you! Yes, although Lucas' story arc took a nosedive, Richard nevertheless managed to play it poignantly and beautifully. I'm very pleased that you can imagine Richard's Lucas when reading this story. :) I'd striven for that.

**Disclaimer:** I only own Varinia, who I'm finally starting to feel comfortable writing.

Enjoy! And I'm sorry again.

* * *

**Chapter 8: Turkish Tea **

On their second day in Ankara, Lucas and Varinia received intel that three government officials would be meeting in a little café near one of the bazaars. The establishment wasn't often frequented by tourists, but a few foreigners who were eager to eat and drink like the locals milled about.

Lucas and Varinia were two such foreigners.

"We'll have two Turkish teas, please," the linguist ordered. She had enthusiastically embraced her cover as a tourist and had even made sure to fumble with the money. "You wouldn't happen to have any milk, would you?"

Meanwhile, Lucas searched for a table. It had to be close enough to their targets so that Varinia could hear the conversations but not so close as to arouse suspicion. He found a spot along the wall, two tables in front of the government personnel. When Varinia joined him with their tea, he pulled out the chair for her. For an instant, surprise registered on her face, before she recovered and sat down.

"Well, it _looks_ like Orange Pekoe," she remarked, sniffing the dark red liquid. "But it smells more like English Breakfast."

"As long as it's hot, I don't care what it looks or smells like," Lucas said. He raised the glass to his lips, reconsidered, and placed it back down to add a bit of milk. "Remember how they drank tea in America?"

Varinia nodded. "Iced. What an abomination." She was unable to suppress a smile but managed to hide it in her glass. "Actually, this is rather good."

Lucas took a sip, as well, though his attention was on the others in the cafe. Most were Turkish, and a few of them eyed his milk-tinged tea dubiously. Good, that meant he and Varinia were convincing thus far.

He glanced at the linguist, who was meticulously folding her napkin into geometric shapes. She was listening, he knew. Lucas did his part, too, keeping their targets in sight to gauge their body language for signs that they suspected they were being observed. When one of them looked towards their table, he flipped open a guide book on Ankara.

"We can go to the Bazaar of Coppersmiths next, if you'd like."

Fortunately, Varinia was sitting with her back to the Turkish officials, which allowed her to arch an amused brow at Lucas. Her reply, however, was faithful to a typical tourist's.

"I read that you can buy quality jewelry there for bargain prices." She sipped her tea to give her an excuse to remain silent. As she took a large gulp, he felt her knee nudge his beneath the table. Their quarry had said something important. "I wonder if I could get one of those cabochon emerald and ruby necklaces."

"Well, if not, then maybe when we go to Istanbul."

The three government personnel finished their coffees and stood. One of them glanced around the teashop, but his gaze didn't linger. When they had gone, Varinia leaned forward, alarm evident on her face and in her voice.

"I think there's been another death in Ardahan."

"What do you mean you _think_?"

"Well, they weren't exactly explicit, were they," she defended. "One of them just said that there was another like Eda."

"He used her name?"

"_She_," Varinia corrected. "And yes, but she didn't mention the name of the other decedent."

Lucas pulled out his mobile and texted the new information to Harry.

"Tariq should be able to find out more," he said. "Though I doubt this time there will be a police report."

"No, probably not," Varinia agreed. She drank the rest of her tea and sighed. "Now what?"

"Now we wait for Six's asset to give us the time and place of the next meet."

Varinia grinned. "So we're free for the afternoon?" Lucas nodded. "Then can we go to the Bazaar of Coppersmiths?"

His first reaction was to grimace, but the linguist's eyes had lit up at the mention of the market. He couldn't bring himself to refuse.

"You do realise that the suggestion was part of our cover, don't you?"

"Yeah, but the bazaar's not far from here, and there really _are_ good deals on jewelry, among other things." She regarded him with a hint of mischief in her expression. "Besides, it's my turn to choose what we do. You picked gun range. I pick pretty things."

He gave her a half-smile and stood, offering her his hand. "I can't argue with such infallible logic."

#

That night, Lucas received a call from Harry, asking to speak with Varinia. He pressed the speakerphone button and sat across from the linguist at the kitchen table.

_"Tariq intercepted a conversation from Kolesnikov to an FSB agent in Turkey,"_ said Harry. His tone sounded strange, almost wary. _"He's forwarding it to both of you now."_

Within seconds, their mobiles _beeped_, indicating a new e-mail. Since they were currently talking on Lucas' phone, Varinia opened the message on hers. Her brows furrowed, as she scanned it.

"Is this a joke, Harry?" She handed her mobile to Lucas, who comprehended nothing of the e-mail. The reason for that soon became apparent. "It's just a bunch of gibberish."

"It could be code," Lucas suggested.

_"That's what we initially thought,"_ Harry replied. _"But when Tariq entered it into the decoder, it came up empty. So he ran it through a language recognition system, which identified at least five different languages."_

Varinia read through the transcript again. And this time, her jaw dropped.

"Oh my god. He's right," she breathed. "The Russians have pieced together bits and pieces of existing languages to make an entirely new one. I don't know _which_ languages, but I know one of them is definitely Slavic."

_"We have to learn what that message says,"_ Harry urged. _"If it was important enough to create a language for, it's important enough for us to know. The health of hundreds or even thousands of people could be at stake."_

The linguist nodded, though only Lucas could see her. "I'll get started on it right away."

_"Good,"_ said Harry. _"And it's best not to tell Six about the language until you've deciphered it. No need to worry them prematurely."_

Lucas' gaze followed Varinia, as she procured a notepad and pen and began to copy down the transcript.

"What about the second victim?"

There was a rustling on the other end, and Harry sighed.

_"Tariq hasn't found anything. It's probable that the Turkish government is aware of the illness and is trying to cover it up."_

"To prevent a panic, most likely," Lucas mused. "So we do what? Continue tailing officials in the hopes of hearing something relevant?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Varinia's brows drawn in concentration. She glanced up at him, looking mildly irritated, then returned her attention to the transcript. Lucas walked into his bedroom to avoid distracting her.

_"If Six's contact has more information, then yes_," Harry replied. _"With Altan's friend missing, she's probably our only source regarding what's happening in Ardahan."_

"A mystery illness, a disappeared government official, and now a made-up language." Lucas scrubbed his face with his free hand, feeling suddenly weary. "We're in over our heads, Harry. We all are-the Turks, Six, Five."

_"Which is why it's imperative that Varinia translates Kolesnikov's message."_

He remembered the fire in her eyes when she realised the significance of the e-mail and smiled.

"If it's possible, she'll do it."

After Lucas had hung up, he saw Varinia lingering by his door. Fiddling with the hem of her blouse, she seemed uncertain again. He stood and walked to her.

"A few minutes ago, you looked so determined. What happened?"

"I remembered that I'm not a code-breaker," she replied flatly. "This isn't linguistics, Lucas. I may recognize a few Slavic traces, but it's not any Slavic language I've ever seen, and I've seen them all. And there's something vaguely Finno-Ugric about it, too, but I can't make out _what_."

"Finno-Ugric?"

"The language family to which Finnish, Estonian, and Hungarian belong," she said dismissively. "Along with a few ethnic Siberian languages."

"Hungarian? That's good. You should be able to figure that one out quickly."

Varinia shook her head. "No, because the pieces that make up this...chimaera...are not languages, per say," she explained. "They're parts of languages, like grammar or morphemes or syntax."

Though Lucas was fluent in Russian, he had never learned the linguistics of it or of any other language.

"You lost me at morphemes."

"Morphemes make up words," she answered. "For example, 'unknowable' consists of three morphemes, _un-, -know, _and _-able_." Varinia paused, thinking. "They're kind of confusing, because there are different types, but syntax is straightforward. It's basically how a language forms its sentences."

"So this chimaera language takes inspiration from other languages?"

"Yes, and that's actually a really good way to describe it," she said, with a grin. "I know there are loan words also, albeit corrupted, but I can't match them to their origin languages yet."

"You've had access to the e-mail for ten whole minutes and still haven't identified the source languages?" His lips twitched, as she ducked her head to hide a smile. "Shame on you."

"You joke, Lucas, but a lot is riding on this. I've never done anything even remotely similar."

"Varinia," he said, tipping up her chin to look at him. "You're fluent in six languages and conversational in four others, including some Slavic and Finno-Ugric ones. If anyone can do this, you can."

"And if I come across Chinese?"

"Then we find someone who knows Chinese."

"You make it sound so simple," she muttered and glared at him when he laughed. "Just for that, I'm making you stay up with me tonight while I work on the transcript."

Lucas leant in close to whisper near her ear.

"I look forward to it."


	9. Chapter 9: Coffee

Happy Spyday! It's still Sunday in the United States, so I'm technically still on time. **Note:** MİT is Turkey's secret service, the equivalent of MI5/MI6 and the CIA.

Just4Me: Oh, Lucas was very useful to Varinia during the decoding process, as you'll see in this chapter. :) I think he secretly liked going to the bazaar with her, too. *giggles* Can you imagine it? Now I'm tempted to write that scene!

**Disclaimer:** I only own Varinia and Clive.

**Chapter 9: Coffee**

Lucas awoke to a bright ray of sunshine peeking in through the curtains, which was far more welcome than the crick in his neck. He was momentarily confused as to why he was leaning against the arm of the sofa, but when his gaze found Varinia's prone, still-sleeping form, he remembered.

They had indeed stayed up to work on the transcript, and Varinia had made progress with the chimaeric language. In addition to identifying the foundation languages for the loan words, she had also begun breaking down individual words, starting with the ones most often used. She'd identified articles and nouns, as well as tentatively figured out the syntax. All the while, Lucas brought her coffee and tea. But she had nevertheless fallen asleep beside her laptop, prompting him to move her to the couch.

He smiled slightly, recalling the previous night.

_"Well, I'll be damned. Fixed SOV," remarked Varinia, her unimpressed tone at odds with her words. "That's not predictable or anything."_

_Lucas looked up from his book, by now accustomed to the woman's epiphanies. He had already learnt an overwhelming amount of linguistic information, and now it seemed he would learn even more._

_"What's an SOV?" _

_She had been working for nearly three hours nonstop. He reckoned she deserved a break. _

_"It's when a language follows the subject-object-verb word order," Varinia replied. "For example, 'Lucas a book reads'." _

_"Why is that predictable?" _

_"Because it's the most common word order, not to mention the one Russian uses." Lucas had an epiphany of his own when he realised that she was right. "Incidentally, Hungarian sometimes uses it, too."_

_"So what does that mean?"_

_She was silent for a moment, considering. Slowly, a frown formed on her face. "I don't really know yet."_

_"You said the base languages are Russian, Finno-Ugric, something Asian, German, and Turkish." The linguist nodded and pursed her lips. "Do all of those use fixed SOV?"_

_"Yes, except that random Finno-Ugric one," she said, exasperation evident in her voice. Sighing, she drained her fourth cup of coffee and slumped back in her chair. "It's not Finnish. It's not Hungarian. It's probably not Estonian, because that's similar to Finnish. So that leaves Mansi or Khanty, neither of which I speak."_

_"The Siberian tribes?" he checked. _

_"Yup. I'm actually reading up on them right now, but I have no idea which one is used. For all I know, they could _both_ be used." Varinia picked up her mug again but groaned when she found it empty. "What's worse is that I'm not even sure the Finno-Ugric language is Mansi or Khanty at all. I only know that it's agglutinative." _

_Lucas gave her a blank look but didn't ask for clarification. She was exhausted and frustrated, with dark circles under her green eyes. _

_"I would suggest going to sleep..." He trailed off, as he went into the kitchen to fill her cup with tea this time. "But you won't anyway."_

_"I'm sorry, Lucas. You don't need to be awake." She finally turned her full attention to him, watching his movements with a guilty expression. "It's nearly 5 AM. At least one of us should get some sleep."_

_He gave her a half-smile and placed the mug beside her notebook. "When I said I looked forward to staying up with you, I wasn't merely flirting." The half-smile turned into a half-smirk when she blushed. "Ever since Ros' death, missions have been solo affairs. So it's..." Lucas paused, hesitating, "...nice to have company again."_

_If Varinia suspected him of hiding something, she didn't show it. Instead, she flashed him a grateful smile and took a large gulp of her tea, before delving back into the weird world of linguistics. _

Varinia shifted in her sleep, stretching out her legs, the tips of her toes nudging his thigh. Despite that Lucas had only slept three hours, they were a better three hours than all the sleep he had gotten over the past few months. After Sarah's betrayal, the memories and dreams of Lushanka had returned in full force, particularly at night and particularly on nights when he was alone. For all her quirks, Varinia was good for him, not only because her near-constant presence helped to distract him from darker thoughts.

The linguist shifted again, but this time to awaken. Lucas watched as she took stock of the situation, a blush creeping into her cheeks.

"Apparently, caffeine is completely useless to me."

"I'm sure it wouldn't have been, had I given you caffeinated coffee," he replied, with a small, amused smile. She huffed and glared at him, ready to complain. But Lucas headed her off. "If I hadn't switched your coffee halfway through, you would likely _still_ be awake, and with heart palpitations, too."

Varinia softened and sat up, the blanket pooling in her lap.

"In that case, thank you," she said, looking up at him shyly through her lashes. "I suppose I got a little carried away last night."

"Yes, but you also unraveled a lot of Chimaera."

"Not the content, though," she said. "And I don't think I can translate it on my own. The Finno-Ugric language aside, there's something in there that doesn't quite add up. It could be an Asian language, and if it is, I need help."

"We'll talk to Harry," he assured. Lucas stood and went into the kitchen. "You should sleep some more."

"So should you," Varinia said, following him. Her clothes from yesterday were rumpled, but she downed a glass of water before adjusting them. "And you're tilting your neck strangely. Sit."

Lucas did. Her hands were soft and small, as they settled on his shoulders. He allowed himself to relax against the chair back, feeling calmer than he had in months. While she massaged his neck and shoulders, she talked.

"Thank you for yesterday, by the way." Her fingers dug into his skin, kneading the stiff muscles. "You preserved a lot of my dignity by not leaving me to drool onto the table."

"You weren't drooling," he said quietly.

"Oh?" she remarked. "Well, thanks all the same."

"You're welcome. But I could've taken you to bed, now that I think about it." He paused. "To _your_ bed."

She giggled. "The sofa was fine." He winced when she prodded a particularly sore area. "For me, at least."

"I'd intended to go to bed..." _...but you looked so pretty asleep... _"But I guess I dozed off."

"Sorry," she murmured sheepishly and trailed a finger across his nape.

Lucas turned his head to smile at her, trying not to grimace at the shooting pain in his neck. "Don't be sorry." He caught one of her hands and kissed it. "I'm not." His smile widened when her lips parted in surprise. She stared at him, seemingly unsure how to respond, but in the end, squeezed his hand.

They were silent after that, the only sound the din of the rushing cars outside. Varinia was touching him with soft strokes now, as though wanting to feel his skin beneath her palms. To Lucas' embarrassment, he found the brushes comforting, and his head began to tip forward, his eyes fluttering closed. He might have even made a noise in the back of his throat. But she didn't comment, merely continued her ministrations.

And spoke again.

"Should we call Harry soon?"

"Yeah, we'll call him." Pulling his mobile from his pocket, Lucas dialed, pressing the speaker option and placing the phone on the table. It rang three times before Harry answered.

_"Good morning, Lucas."_

"Morning, Harry."

"Morning!" Varinia chirped.

_"I'm glad to hear you're both in such good spirits."_ The man's tone was weary, and they could hear Altan's voice in the background. The Turk didn't sound as cheerful as usual. _"I was just about to call you, actually."_

"Why? What's wrong?" asked Lucas, leaning forward. Varinia's hands dropped from his shoulders. "Did Tariq intercept another Chimaera message?"

_"Chimaera message?" _But Harry didn't give Lucas a chance to explain. _"It's Altan's friend. The M_ _İT have found his body."_

"Poor Altan," said Varinia. She sat down in the chair opposite Lucas', biting her bottom lip. "And they're sure it was the Russians?"

_"The abduction and...interrogation styles scream FSB. But Moscow denies involvement."_

"Of course it does," said Lucas scathingly. The linguist glanced at him, a question in her eyes. He ignored it. "Do they know that Kolesnikov is communicating with one of their Russians?"

_"Marcus said yes, but he didn't mention whether or not they were aware of the content of those communications."_ They heard Ruth consoling Altan in the background. _"My guess is they aren't, since I assume Varinia hasn't yet decoded that...Chimaera language, you called it?"_

Lucas smirked. "Varinia's name for it."

_"After the Greek monster. Fitting,"_ said Harry, momentarily sounding a little brighter. _"If the Turks ask for your help, Varinia, which I suspect they might, it would be prudent to acquiesce."_

"Of course," she affirmed. "I got through some of the message last night, but there are one or two languages that I'm not familiar with. If the Turks have a linguist who specialises in Asian languages, I would definitely make more progress."

"I could call Clive Bolton," Lucas suggested. "Sniff out how much he knows."

_"Do that,"_ Harry agreed. _"But discreetly."_

"When have you ever known me _not_ to be discreet?" Lucas asked, feigning insult.

They could hear the smile in Harry's voice, as he replied, _"Careful, Lucas. Overconfidence is not a flattering quality."_

Varinia tried to stifle her giggles, but Lucas noticed them and nudged her knee with his. He was about to reply to Harry, when his phone's screen lit up with another call.

"Bolton's calling."

_"Answer it,"_ said Harry. _"I'll wait."_

Lucas switched over, while Varinia poured them both a glass of orange juice. After bingeing on coffee and tea last night, she didn't think either one was in the mood for the beverages.

_"Hello, Lucas," greeted Clive. "How are you this morning?"_

"Relaxed," he replied, smiling in Varinia's direction. "Does your asset have another lead for us?"

_"No, but I was hoping you and Miss Erdélyi could come in anyway," _Clive said. _"There have been developments."_

Lucas understood the vague reference, as any spy would. He looked at Varinia, who nodded.

"We can be there in an hour." Switching back to Harry, he said, "Bolton asked Varinia and me to come in. Something big has happened."

_"I wouldn't be surprised if it's the language."_

"How should I go about this, Harry?" inquired Varinia. She was trailing a finger along the rim of her empty glass, brows creasing slightly. "Should I be forthcoming? Or pretend I've never seen Chimaera before?"

_"At this point, I would say be forthcoming, if questioned,"_ Harry replied. _"Six might bring in their own linguists, and the Turks definitely will, so your prior knowledge of the language will come out sooner or later."_

"Right, okay." Lucas saw the flash of irritation in her eyes. "Well, I'm going to hop in the shower, then. Thanks, Harry."

Lucas watched her leave, wondering what had caused her disgruntled expression. He finished his conversation with Harry and moved his neck back and forth, pleased that the stiffness had disappeared.

He thought about Varinia again, as he showered, and her soft, small hands.


	10. Chapter 10: Body Language

Sorry this chapter is kind of short. I'm currently in London for LonCon (world sci-fi convention) and _The Crucible_, so I had less time and opportunity to write. I'm quite fond of this, though. :)

williewildcat: I thank Richard Armitage for many things. XD I'm glad you discovered _Spooks_! And I'm also rather pleased that this story has sparked a desire to write in this fandom. :) Thank you for your review, dear!

ayshin79: *nods* Imagining Richard playing out these scenes...well, it does a girl good. Yes, I deliberately left the ending of the previous chapter vague. Lucas _might_ have had completely innocent thoughts, for all we know, lol. Thank you for your review, darling!

**Disclaimer:** They finally _get_ somewhere. I only own Varinia, Clive, and Damla (who you're about to meet).

Enjoy! :)

* * *

**Chapter 10: Body Language**

Clive was waiting in the lobby when Lucas and Varinia were admitted through security. He gave them a tense smile in greeting.

"Long night?"

Lucas glanced at Varinia, the dark circles prominent under her eyes. He imagined he looked equally tired.

"You could say that," she hedged.

Varinia must have sounded hesitant, because Clive looked from her to Lucas with a knowing and somewhat amused glint in his eyes. Lucas stepped closer to the linguist. Better the man thought they were involved, rather than hiding potentially significant information.

"You mentioned developments?" he prodded.

"Yes, follow me." Clive led them towards the lift, which took them up to the third floor. He ushered them into a medium-sized conference room, where a youngish Turkish woman was already sitting. She introduced herself a Damla, one of the Turkish secret service agents tasked with facilitating cooperation between MİT and MI6.

"We currently have an asset in Ardahan's main hospital's morgue," she explained. "And according to her reports, the situation there is getting worse. A third person has died suspiciously."

"Suspiciously?" Lucas repeated. "What is the cause of death listed?"

"Natural, like Eda's and the second victim's, who remains unnamed."

"Does your asset have access to the bodies?" Varinia asked.

"Yes, except the three linked to our mystery illness. Only the chief medical examiner has access to those." Damla smiled grimly. "Our asset has been working at the morgue for five years. She is often the first and last person to have contact with the bodies. This is the first time access to them has been restricted."

"What about the paperwork?" Lucas asked. "Has she seen the autopsy reports?"

"They're kept behind lock and key, as well," Damla replied, her smile turning rueful. "But there's more." She opened a folder and gave each of them a piece of paper. On it was Chimaera. "We've recently intercepted _this_ from some Russian FSB agents. Our initial assessment is that it might be some sort of code."

Lucas glimpsed Varinia from the corner of his eye. Her brows were furrowed, as she scanned the file. Play dumb, Harry had said. So they played dumb.

"Russian FSB agents?" he questioned.

Damla looked at Lucas. "Our Russians have been talking to your Russians," she answered. "An FSB man in London named Mikhail Kolesnikov called an FSB man in Ankara named Boris Trotsky. That writing is a transcript of their conversation."

"We know about this," said Clive, glancing between Lucas and Varinia. "And I suspect MI5 does, too."

They were caught, but to her credit, Varinia was unabashed, as she said, "I don't think it's code. If it were, the code-breaking program would have found something by now."

Damla seemed surprised by the linguist's forthright statement. _Sharp_. That was how Lucas had described Varinia to Harry. And she was. Deceptively so.

"That's true," the MİT agent conceded. "Unless it's a new kind of code whose patterns are not recognized by the softwares."

"Or a language," Clive suggested. He looked pointedly at Varinia, but it was Lucas who spoke.

"We've seen this message before but only just recently."

"And?" Clive prompted. "Surely a polyglot such as yourself, Varinia, would have learned something about it."

Before she could look to Lucas for guidance, he took her hand beneath the table and gave it a little squeeze. Varinia squeezed back, grateful for the reassurance.

"Well, actually, I have." Releasing Lucas' hand to take out her notebook, she flipped a few pages and handed it to Clive. "That's all I have thus far."

The MI6 agent read through her notes, then passed the book to Damla. "No wonder you had a long night," he remarked.

"You list Turkish as one of component languages," noted Damla. "Why?"

"Vocabulary, mostly," Varinia replied. "But I've only just begun to deconstruct the amalgamation. And I've hit a snag already."

"Asian," murmured Clive.

The linguist nodded. "I've never traveled farther east than Turkey, so I haven't learned any of the Asian languages."

"But you still believe at least one of them is used in this...Chimaera?" Damla's lips twitched. "That's an appropriate name, all things considered."

"The terrible beast of Greek mythology defeated by Bellerophon," added Clive, with a chuckle.

Lucas took Varinia's hand again, linking their fingers together this time. He enjoyed the way she faltered slightly in her reply.

"I think so, yes," she said.

Damla passed back Varinia's notebook and typed something into her mobile.

"Clive, if you'll provide the premises, we'll provide the missing linguists." She regarded Varinia with a small smile. "If you're willing to continue working on this, of course."

"I'm willing," the redhead affirmed.

"This will only work if we have open communication," advised Clive, giving each of them a measured glance. "MI6 with MI5 with MİT."

"Certainly," Damla acquiesced.

Although Varinia also agreed, Lucas felt her tense slightly beside him.

#

It was nearly three in the morning when Lucas and Varinia stumbled into the flat, shucking their shoes off haphazardly by the door. She collapsed onto the sofa, staring up at the ceiling.

"Oh, no you don't," Lucas said, standing above the linguist. "I am not sleeping here again."

"I won't fall asleep," she grumbled but closed her eyes anyway. They flew open with a yelp, as Lucas picked her up to carry her into her bedroom. "I have legs, you know."

"Yes, I know," he replied, his lips twitching in amusement. "A very fine pair, too."

She blushed and changed the subject. "Damla's pretty take-charge, don't you think?"

Lucas went along with the topic change, despite his temptation to tell...or show...Varinia what else he found alluring about her.

"Sort of reminds me of Ros," he remarked. He set her down carefully, watching as she adjusted her skirt. "But you held your own, too, especially when it came to Chimaera."

"Well, I have a bit of a head start with it," Varinia said. She rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a t-shirt and shorts. Lucas edged towards the door, but she made no move to undress yet. "I confess, though, that I was nervous about working with the other linguists."

Lucas sat down beside her on the bed. "I noticed," he said softly. "Why?"

She shrugged. "I guess it's because I don't have a degree in any of my languages."

"But you know more languages than they do."

"Yeah, but they're experts in them, aren't they." Varinia sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I got over it, but at first, it's always a bit daunting."

Lucas didn't think before he kissed the top of her head. He froze, waiting for a reaction, but when none came, he said, "You handled it well, Varinia. I doubt anyone even noticed you were nervous."

"You did."

"Only because I felt you tense up."

As she snaked her hand beneath his, however, she was completely relaxed. Perhaps it was the softness of her skin or the warmth of her small body against his that prompted him to tilt up her chin and press his lips to hers. Varinia responded immediately, kissing him back willingly if a tad too gently. He didn't deepen it, content to merely feel for now.

When they broke apart, he gazed into her eyes, noticing not for the first time just how green they were. She stared back at him, confident, no blush staining her cheeks, and he kissed her again. This time, he _did_ deepen it, sliding his tongue over her bottom lip until she granted it access. She tasted of mint and pomegranate chap stick, and he reveled in it. Her arms wrapped around his neck, while he tangled his hands in her hair, pulling her closer.

Lucas didn't think about Sarah or about Lushanka or even about the repercussions of their actions. Lowering Varinia onto the pillows, his only thought was _her_.


	11. Chapter 11: Working Relationships

Not a whole lot of plot, but a whole lot of Lucas+Varinia. **Edit:** **First half of chapter expanded upon request. Now rated M. **

birdsflyaway: Thank you! :)

williewildcat: Hope you like the revised scene!

ayshin79: _The Crucible_ was utterly brilliant. Although I'd obviously gone to see it because of Armitage, the whole cast was spectacular. Armitage actually shed tears, which is something he hasn't done in any other role that I've seen. As Proctor, he was electric and intimidating and powerful and vulnerable and passionate. The final kiss between Proctor and his wife was beautiful. She was kneeling by his feet, and he picked her up and kissed her as he slowly lowered her, undoing her bun and wrapping his hands in her hair. I only took one picture (me with RA at the stage door), which can be found on my Tumblr (link is on my profile).

Thank you for the reviews! Enjoy. :)

* * *

**Chapter 11: Working Relationships**

Lucas supposed it was inevitable that he and Varinia should sleep together. After all, he had been attracted to her from the moment she had walked onto the Grid, in her pencil skirt and high heels. That attraction had merely increased once he'd interacted with her. Though they didn't always see eye-to-eye, there existed a mutual respect. Each possessed skills and qualities that the other lacked, making their professional partnership, at least, a harmonious one.

But what of their personal partnership? Whatever their relationship had been before Lucas had kissed Varinia would change now. Looking at the woman sleeping beside him, he wondered what it was that he wanted. Since Sarah, he had eschewed romantic attachments, but the linguist was nothing like the blonde American. She would not betray him, for one, but neither would a relationship with her be quite as thrilling. Perhaps he needed a less volatile existence. Perhaps he needed peace. Varinia offered both of those and more. There was something about her that made her appear younger than her twenty-nine years, a youthful, childlike quality Lucas had lost a long time ago. He realised that was one of the things he liked best about her. She was still unjaded and open; he could read her expressions like a book. And that was reassuring, when one dealt in lies for a living.

Varinia shifted, rolling over to pillow her head upon his shoulder. He glanced at the clock. 5:47 AM. He hadn't slept at all, and it looked as though he wouldn't, either. Now that their sweat-slicked skin had cooled and their lust had been slaked, his mind exploded with thoughts. The sex had been remarkable, Varinia's body pliant above and beneath his. She was beautiful in her pleasure and generous in her reciprocation. He felt himself stirring at the memory of her moans, of her back arching off the bed, of her flesh sliding against his. Instinctively, he wrapped an arm around her middle, slowly stroking from ribs to hip. She shifted again, but this time, to awaken.

Sleepy, green eyes blinked up at him, as she tried to suppress a yawn.

"How long have you been awake?"

He looked down at her with a fond smile.

"Not long," he lied. Varinia didn't need to know that she was the reason he couldn't sleep. "We've still got a few hours before we need to go in. You should go back to sleep."

"And you?" she asked, slinging a leg over his thigh. The motion brought her closer, so that her breasts brushed against his torso. His cock twitched with renewed interest.

"I will, too," he said, lying again. Even if he could have slept before, he _definitely_ couldn't now.

"Or..." she mused aloud, "we could repeat our previous activities."

Although her face was half-hidden in his shoulder, Lucas nevertheless glimpsed her mischievous smile. And just in case her meaning wasn't clear, Varinia snaked a hand to his groin, resting it just above his cock, which was growing by the second. Not so long ago, he might have thought her demure. But not anymore.

"I'm amenable to that," he said huskily and shifted her to lie atop him.

Her core grazed his pubic bone, pulling a gasp from her lips. The throbbing heat against his skin sent his arousal spiraling higher, until he could no longer resist kissing her. Whereas before he was gentle and driven by affection, now Lucas captured her mouth with a ferocity prompted by Varinia's initiative. He wanted her, and she wanted him, and once again, he tossed the repercussions out the window.

She pulled away to settle onto his lap, bent knees on either side of his thighs, as Lucas' hands rested on her hips. Varinia watched him, seeing her lust reflected in his eyes, feeling him grow ever harder beneath her. Then she braced her hands on his chest and moved her hips, rubbing against his erection. His breath caught in his throat.

"Don't tease," he growled, but despite his command, he gripped her thighs to help with her undulations.

"No?" she questioned, leaning down to whisper against his lips. "Then what would you have me do?"

Lucas lifted her so that the head of his cock just barely breached her folds.

"This," he replied, his voice dropping in pitch.

Varinia obliged, sinking down onto him in one, smooth drop of her hips. She threw her head back, her moan echoing his groan, her pelvis meeting his. After allowing herself a moment to adjust, she began moving atop him with slow, deep strokes. His hips thrust up, gently at first, then building in force as Varinia increased the pace. Lucas relinquished control, content to merely feel her tight heat clench around him.

She leaned forward, changing the angle of penetration, and gave a gasping moan. His cockhead had speared that sensitive bundle of nerves, sending intense pleasure shooting through her. Varinia rode him faster, breasts bouncing enticingly, until Lucas couldn't resist cupping them. His thumbs circled her nipples, and she clenched around him. He choked on a moan and bucked up hard, bringing her closer and closer to release. Feeling her body tense, he used two fingers on her clit, and that was all it took. Varinia bowed forward and cried out, the spasms around his cock hastening his own orgasm. Lucas thrust once, twice, before he pulled her down and came with a grunt.

A hand wrapped around the back of her neck, and he kissed her, sucking her lower lip into his mouth, his tongue sliding along hers. Still not recovered from their high, they exchanged panted breaths, their hearts thudding against the other's chest. When they broke apart, Lucas stroked Varinia's cheek, his throat constricting slightly at her sleepy, blissful smile. Sarah had never looked like that after sex, so unreservedly open and almost _innocent_. She had always hidden something from him, whether it was her involvement in Nightingale or simply her feelings for him.

But Varinia... She didn't think twice about allowing him to see her.

He kissed her again, more softly this time, because she deserved tenderness after that fucking. Lucas also wondered briefly if there might not have been another, more meaningful reason behind the gesture. But he was prevented from deeper contemplation when Varinia stroked his chest. He glanced down at her, surprised to find her observing him. She looked as though she wanted to ask a question, then apparently thought better of it and moved off of him.

"I know you haven't slept yet," she remarked, lying on her side with her back facing him. "The lines around your eyes are more pronounced than usual."

Lucas laid behind her, cocooning her body within his. "Thanks for pointing out my wrinkles," he murmured.

"They're laugh lines," she corrected, craning her neck to look at him. Though she was grinning, a finger gently brushed the corner of his eye. "I like them."

"Well, that's a benefit," he replied. "Because you'll have to see them for a bit longer, I'm afraid."

Varinia laughed. "You make that sound like a bad thing." She turned away from him and yawned. "I confess I was a bit worried at first to be working with you, but now I realise that was stupid."

"Likewise," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Sleep now. I'll wake you when it's time to go."

"But you'll sleep, too, won't you?"

"Yeah," he assured. "I'll sleep."

Whether or not that was a lie, Lucas didn't know.

#

The team of linguists had made astonishing progress with Chimaera, managing to unravel much of the conversation. In it, Kolesnikov confirmed everyone's worst fears. The Russians were responsible for the illness in Ardahan. Precisely what that sickness was, though, they did not yet know. With this new information, the Turkish government had acquired the three bodies and were currently running tests on them to identify the disease. Anyone who had come in close contact with the victims, while living and dead, were quietly quarantined. Until the nature of the plot was revealed, the Turks were keen to minimise knowledge of it.

The linguists worked like code-breakers, compiling a key with grammar and vocabulary. They still did not fully understand Chimaera, but they were close. The Finno-Ugric component was the missing link, though Varinia, who was a native speaker of an Ugric language, had nearly cracked that.

"It can only be Mansi," she declared.

After days of living with her, Lucas had grown accustomed to her random comments. He was sitting on the sofa beside her, updating Harry on what they had learned. Since their last conversation, Tariq had intercepted more phone calls between Kolesnikov and Moscow, but they were all in regular code, instead of in the invented language. They were, nonetheless, foreboding, because the Russians seemed confident that their plan was proceeding according to schedule. There had been no mention of expanding it to England...yet..., but with Kolesnikov still stationed in London, that was a worrying probability.

"You've figured it out, then?"

"I have," Varinia replied. She showed him a page in her notebook, pointing to the fifth sentence down. By now, Lucas recognised Chimaera, but the sentence was not in Chimaera. "This is Mansi. It's actually fairly similar to Hungarian, because there are mutually intelligible words, in addition to it being agglutinative." He gave her a blank look, so she added, "Agglutinative just means that words are formed by stringing morphemes together." By now, he also understood what morphemes were.

"These are the root words," she explained, indicating them. "And these are the agglutinated words. Look at the affixes attached to the root words."

Lucas did and saw that she had created a chart comparing Chimaera's agglutinative words with Mansi's.

"They're nearly identical to Chimaera's." He stared at her, and she stared back, a triumphant grin spreading across her face. "You've cracked it, Varinia."

"Well, I had lots of help," she demurred. "Without Kerem, I probably still wouldn't have figured out the Chinese influence."

"You might have," he said. "You figured out the Mansi influence."

"Only because I speak Hungarian, which turned out to be useful, for once." She sighed and opened the document on her laptop containing her notes on Chimaera. "If every message is going to take this long to translate, we'll always be one step behind the Russians."

"It might not be just the Russians," Lucas said ominously.

She glanced at him, frowning. "You think other nations are involved, too?"

"Well, it stands to reason, since Chimaera is made up of so many different languages."

"Jesus," Varinia breathed. "This is a lot worse than I imagined. We're talking about an international terrorist organisation."

He nodded. "And if the Russians are working with the Chinese..."

She blanched. "Then we're screwed." Another thought occurred to her. "But if it's just the Russians and Chinese, why are German, Turkish, and Mansi included in Chimaera, as well?"

"Tariq and Damla are looking into that," Lucas replied. "More than likely, though, each language has representatives."

Varinia sighed again. "I should've stuck with translating books." She jested, but Lucas noticed the flash of fear in her eyes. With good reason, he thought, for she had helped to uncover a huge, multi-national terrorist group with a fatal disease at its disposal.

"Maybe," Lucas agreed. "But then I wouldn't be able to do this."

Before she could ask what he intended to do, Lucas leant down and kissed her. He'd caught her off guard, but she responded quickly, placing her hand on his cheek and kissing him back. When he pulled away, she was watching him with a contemplative expression.

"Isn't there a rule that colleagues shouldn't..." She trailed off, choosing her words carefully. "...be involved sexually?"

"Not unless their working relationship is affected." But Varinia didn't look convinced. "If you would prefer, we can stop the sex."

"No! That's not what I meant," she insisted. His lips twitched in amusement. "I just don't want to come home to a scolding from Harry and Marcus."

"You won't," he assured. "I'm very good at being discreet."

She laughed. "Well, I should hope so, since it's your job."

He kissed her again, effectively silencing her giggles. As Varinia's arms wrapped around his neck to pull him atop her, Lucas considered that perhaps the spunky linguist was the Universe's answer to his previous, failed relationships.


	12. Chapter 12: Plague

It's a bit short. Sorry about that. This is my first semester teaching, so I have been trying to work out the kinks and haven't had a whole lot of spare time to write.

ayshin79: Yes, that sex scene showed different facets of their personalities that might not have been otherwise revealed. I quite liked writing it, too. ;) As for RA, I was thrilled that he wore the see-through shirt, because we can see his St. Christopher's pendant. :)

birdsflyaway: It's been bumped up! And thank you. :)

Skatingfaery: Thank you! I don't imagine Richard while writing Lucas, per say, but I do imagine some of his mannerisms that I think he would give Lucas if he were to dramatize my scenes.

williewildcat: I post this story simultaneously on my AO3 account, so yeah, it's there, too, in addition to some Richard Armitage one-shots. I'm always up for writing smut (well, I shy away a bit from RPF smut), as my other stories on this site show. XD

StTudnoBright: Expanded! And thank you. :)

Thank you, everyone, for the follows, faves, and reviews! *hugs*

**Disclaimer:** I'm a bioarchaeologist, not a microbiologist, so I tried for something creative. But I did do my research!

* * *

**Chapter 12: Plague**

Septicemic plague. It sounded like something out of history, because it _was_ something out of history. In the modern world, people in developed countries simply didn't contract the plague, especially not the rare septicemic variant. But the lab results were unequivocally clear. Eda Büyük and the other two victims had died of septicemic plague.

As soon as Lucas was informed, he'd called Harry, who had requested the presence of Dr. Gallagher, an infectious disease specialist. Over the speakerphone, Lucas and Varinia could hear the disbelief in her voice.

_"Septicemic plague?" _questioned the doctor. _"Are you sure?"_

"Well, the Turkish bacteriologists are," Lucas answered.

"They ran the tests six times, because they couldn't believe it either," added Varinia. "I've never heard of septicemic plague. How does it compare to bubonic and pneumonic plague?"

_"It attacks the blood, causing septicemia, hence its name," _Dr. Gallagher said. _"It's much rarer than the other two forms, but it's also more fatal."_

_"How is it transmitted?"_ Harry asked.

_"The same way that bubonic and pneumonic plague are," _Dr. Gallagher replied. _"Through direct contact with infected bodily fluids, whether orally or topically."_

"But the latter two decedents didn't have any contact with the first," pointed out Varinia.

"Then they were deliberately infected," Lucas deduced grimly.

_"That's a possibility,"_ agreed the infectious disease specialist. _"But that person would need to have had medical access to all three victims."_

_"And did he?" _Harry prompted.

Lucas and Varinia exchanged a wary glance.

"Yes, it seems like it," Varinia answered. "All three victims had previously gone in for a routine check-up, which included a flu shot."

_"Then it's likely the bacteria was in the vaccine itself,"_ mused Dr. Gallagher. _"Has anyone else received it?"_

"We don't know yet," Lucas replied. "Turkish authorities are currently investigating that, as well as who the physician responsible was," he explained. "But he or she definitely used false credentials."

_"Those who came in contact with the bodies are quarantined, are they not?"_ Harry asked.

"They are," Lucas affirmed. "Is there any other way to transmit the disease?"

_"Certainly,"_ said Dr. Gallagher. Her tone was ominous as she continued. _"The three cases in Ardahan are more akin to experiments than to outright bioterrorism. But that doesn't mean something worse isn't coming. If they engineer the bacteria to be extra virulent or antibiotic-resistant, we could have a serious problem."_

_"An epidemic?" _Harry inquired.

_"Initially, yes."_ Dr. Gallagher hesitated, and when she did speak, her voice was strained. _"And then perhaps a pandemic, depending on the mode of transmission."_

"Even with quarantine?" Lucas asked, shocked.

_"Of course," _the doctor replied. _"If the bacteria is in aerosol form, all the terrorists have to do is release it into the air, and millions or even billions could become infected."_

"Oh my God," Varinia breathed, covering her mouth with her hand.

Lucas glanced at her and saw the fear in her eyes. He felt it, too.

"What can we do?"

_"Nothing,"_ said Dr. Gallagher. _"For now, they're still testing the bacteria, but the Turks should keep a better eye on medical professionals and equipment. They should also stock up on many different types of antibiotics."_

Lucas arched a brow, though the infectious disease specialist couldn't see the motion.

"I doubt whoever injected those people with the plague will come back for more."

_"Not likely, no,"_ Harry agreed. _"Nevertheless, Lucas, I would prefer if you and Varinia returned to London. There is nothing else you can do there."_

Varinia glanced sharply at Lucas, about to protest. But he shook his head.

"Understood," the spy said. "I'll call you when we have a flight booked." Lucas hung up and observed Varinia, before he touched Varinia's shoulder, allowing his fingers to linger. "I'm sorry for interrupting you, but it was best that you didn't mention Chimaera."

Her brows rose in surprise. "How could you possibly know what I was going to say?"

He gave her a half-smile and stroked her bare arm. "You're a linguist."

"I'm that predictable, huh?" she said, laughing.

"In this case, yes," Lucas replied. "But just as it's in your nature to understand languages, it's in mine to understand people."

Although, he thought bitterly, he had failed rather spectacularly with Sarah.

"Right, how could I forget?" she quipped, smiling slightly. "Why was it best I didn't mention Chimaera? Does Harry not trust Dr. Gallagher?"

"He does," Lucas said. "But Chimaera is above her clearance, as is the involvement of the Russians."

Varinia nodded. "Yes, I noticed you and Harry were vague about that, too." She sighed, as she closed her laptop and stood. "I suppose I should go pack, then." She moved towards her bedroom, but Lucas caught her wrist.

"How would you feel about taking a trip to Istanbul?"

Her face brightened, and Lucas couldn't stop himself from smiling.

"You have no idea how much I'd like that," she grinned, wrapping her arms around his waist and looking up at him. "How long would we be there? Because there are so many places I want to show you."

"A couple days, at most," he replied, regretting that they didn't have more time. "I don't think the world can spare a polyglot now."

Varinia's cheeks colored, as Lucas knew they would. She was completely comfortable having sex with him, but compliments still made her blush. He felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her, so he did, smiling against her lips when her hands fisted into his shirt.

"When, uh, are we leaving?" she asked, once they'd separated. He suppressed a smile. The kiss had caught her off-guard.

"Whenever you're ready," he replied. "I'm sure there are multiple trains running between Ankara and Istanbul."

"There are," she affirmed, then grinned. "I love traveling by train."

"I know," he said, amused. "On the flight over, you lamented that there wasn't a bullet train between London and Ankara."

"Yeah..." she murmured. "I really hate flying."

She looked and sounded so sheepish that he wanted to laugh. But he didn't.

"Yes, I realised that when you clutched your book during takeoff." Varinia averted her gaze, embarrassed, but glanced at him again as he took her hand. "I think that book deserves a break, don't you?"

Lucas brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. The corner of her mouth twitched.

"I believe my book would like that very much."


	13. Chapter 13: Beautiful Sights

You should all feel quite special, because instead of writing the research proposal due in a few days, I was writing this. It's more fun anyway.

ayshin79: Yes, it's important for me to keep Lucas in 'spy mode' even while with Varinia. I don't want his character to change drastically just because a pretty girl becomes his partner. XD But it's nevertheless a joy to write their interactions!

williewildcat: Smallpox, yeah, I fear it, but not as much as I fear ebola. *shudders* I think ebola and septicemic plague terrify me the most, to be honest. Yes, the million dollar question...I don't know how to stop them yet either! Reassuring, isn't it?

mandassina: Yeah, like I'd replied, not an entire supply of flu shot has been contaminated, just a few batches sent to individual clinics/hospitals. Although, if someone did manage to mess with huge supplies, that would be absolutely bloody disastrous, you're right. As for the second part of your review...I understand what you're saying and took it into account in this chapter.

Guest: Thank you! (I'm not sure if this was you, too, mandassina?)

Thank you for the lovely reviews and follows and favorites! xo

**Disclaimer:** I am so clearly _not_ an espionage writer. *despairs*

But enjoy anyway? :D

* * *

**Chapter 13: Beautiful Sights**

Lucas and Varinia were just exiting the Hagia Sofia when his mobile rang.

"It's Harry," he said and hesitated before answering it, knowing that if he did, it meant their Turkish holiday would be cut short. "Hi, Harry."

Varinia led him to a secluded area by the ancient ruins of the original Christian church, watching in concern as the spy's expression grew increasingly grave. She waited impatiently, but to her relief, the conversation was brief.

"We need to get back to London as soon as possible," Lucas announced. "There's been another Chimaera message."

She followed him down the street, nearly jogging to keep up with his pace.

"That's not all, though," she observed. Lucas didn't respond, but the way his gaze flitted about their surroundings was confirmation enough. There was indeed more news, and it was significant enough not to risk speaking of it in the open.

They reached their hotel and ordered a taxi to the airport, while they gathered their belongings. The trip was mostly quiet, broken only by the radio and the buzzing of Varinia's phone. She looked down at the screen. There was a text from Lucas containing three words:

_Sept in China_

She glanced at him sharply, the alarm in her eyes betraying her otherwise calm exterior. Septicemic plague had reached China. She did not yet know the mode or number of victims, but the implications were nevertheless terrifying, because they meant that the trial runs in Ardahan had not been an isolated event. The terrorists were moving.

Varinia opened her mouth to say something, but Lucas gripped her hand, silencing her. So she typed her reply instead.

_How many?_

Lucas' mobile vibrated.

_Unsure. Maybe 2_

There were many more questions she wanted to ask him, but judging by how short his phone call with Harry had been, Lucas probably didn't know much either. So for now, she tried not to think about the recent developments. Besides, another, more pressing worry commanded her attention. That of flying.

When they boarded the plane, Lucas was true to his word. At the start of the takeoff roll, he took Varinia's hand and didn't release it until the seat belt signs were turned off, indicating the plane had reached cruising altitude.

"Thank you," she said, with a grateful smile.

The threat of a plague epidemic loomed in his mind, but her smile momentarily dulled it.

"I was merely sparing the book," he replied.

"Of course," she said, her grin widening. "You like books, then?"

"I do," he affirmed. "I was an avid reader when I was younger."

"But you're not anymore?"

"I would be, if I had the time." Lucas gave her a wry smile. "This is actually the first vacation I've had in years."

Varinia suppressed a giggle. Stalking government officials and discovering an international terror plot weren't exactly what she would call a vacation. But their cover had to be maintained even now.

"And your verdict?"

"The food was good," he said casually. His gaze trailed over her figure, before settling on her face. "And the sights were beautiful."

"Yeah, they were," Varinia nodded. "Particularly the nighttime sights."

His lips twitched at her double meaning. Lucas couldn't remember the last time he'd flirted.

"Mmm," he rumbled in agreement. "And the morning sights." She looked down, but to her credit and his surprise, a blush did not stain her cheeks. He smiled. "I wouldn't mind seeing some of those sights again."

Her gaze met his, and something akin to desire flashed in her eyes.

"That can be arranged," Varinia said smoothly.

Lucas grinned, eager to be off this plane, despite the grim circumstances of their return to England. He could never have imagined how much he would enjoy working with the linguist.

#

Upon landing in London, they took a taxi straight to Thames House. Harry, Ruth, and Tariq were waiting for them when they arrived.

"Lucas, Varinia, it's good have you back," said Harry, ushering them into the office. He handed Varinia a sheet of paper. "That's the most recent message Tariq intercepted from Kolesnikov."

"Who was the recipient?" Lucas asked, glancing at the now-familiar language over her shoulder. Varinia had already begun translating it, spreading out her laptop and notebooks on a desk.

"Still working on that," the tech whizz replied. "But whoever it is, he or she is definitely not in Turkey."

"China?" Lucas suggested.

"It's possible," Ruth said. "Especially since there's a suspected case of the plague in the Yunnan province."

"Suspected?"

Ruth pulled up a report in Chinese, with various characters highlighted.

"After the disease was confirmed in Ardahan, Six advised the embassy in Beijing to be on alert for people falling ill after receiving a flu shot," she answered. "A young girl and her mother, who both received the vaccine, have been admitted to a health center in a small town near Dali."

Varinia had been translating the transcript, but that caught her attention. She looked up at Ruth, aghast.

"They're experimenting on _children_ now?"

"We aren't certain," the other woman clarified. "The two patients could simply be suffering from side effects of the vaccine."

"Possible, but unlikely," Lucas said tersely. Then he softened. "They're terrorists, Varinia. They don't discriminate between their targets."

"I know," she sighed. "Sometimes I just forget the terrible things people are capable of."

Not for the first time, Lucas sympathised with the linguist. This wasn't the world she was accustomed to, despite having previously worked for MI6. She had never before encountered such an insidious threat. But neither had Lucas-not a biological one, at least. Chemical and nuclear plots, certainly, but not bioterrorism.

Ruth placed a hand on Varinia's shoulder. "That's a good thing," she assured her.

Harry looked as though he wanted to disagree, but he continued the briefing instead.

"Key people in the Chinese government have also been notified about what happened in Ardahan."

"Can they be trusted?" Lucas asked.

"Six seems to think so," Harry replied. "And I certainly hope so, as they're the ones with enough authority to sanction the necessary preventative measures and surveillance."

"Even so, it won't be easy," Ruth pointed out.

"China's huge," Tariq agreed.

"Which is why the contents of the messages are so important," remarked Harry, glancing at Varinia. "How's it coming?"

"There's no mention of China yet," she said. "But it'll take me a while to get through it, because there are words I've never seen before."

"I could input Chimaera into the computer and create a translator of sorts," Tariq offered. "So that as you decode more of it, you'd have everything in one program."

"That would help," Varinia said, looking relieved. She smiled sheepishly. "I already have about a hundred pages of notes that really aren't very organised."

After watching her work in Ankara, Lucas could attest to that. He had listened to countless mumbled curses as she flipped through her notebook, searching for the information she needed. Lucas turned his head to hide the smirk threatening to form, and when he returned his attention to her, he saw that she looked pensive.

"What if the languages in Chimaera are the clue?" The others looked at her with inquisitive expressions, so Varinia continued. "To where the disease will strike next," she explained. "It started in Turkey and has potentially moved on to China, which means Russia may be next, followed by Germany."

Harry regarded her with a mix of interest and surprise.

"You're suggesting that they're experimenting geographically based on the languages included in Chimaera?"

Varinia shrugged. "I don't know. It's just an idea."

"But you might be right," Ruth said. "If there's a pattern, and we know it, we have a better chance of stopping the experiments."

"Sure," agreed Lucas, though he sounded skeptical. "But the organisation _must_ be planning something bigger than a few contaminated flu shots. It has its own bloody language, after all."

"And the main event may not conform to the pattern," Harry concluded. "But this is a start. As the terrorists are testing the waters, so, too, are we." He turned to the team and addressed them. "Ruth, contact Marcus. Someone will need to share our theory with Moscow and Berlin. Tariq, keep the channels open. We need to know exactly what's happening in China. Lucas, see if you can learn something from our FSB friends, but discreetly. And Varinia-"

"Translate the message," she interrupted, smiling indulgently. "I'm on it, Harry."

The head of Section D nodded. "Do you need a Chinese interpreter?"

"Nope," she chirped. "Chimaera's architects mercifully only used Chinese for style, not for actual vocabulary. My notes from Kerem, the Chinese expert in Ankara, should suffice."

Everyone went to their respective tasks and were quickly absorbed in them. As Lucas walked towards the lift, his hand surreptitiously brushed Varinia's. Although her face remained impassive, her gaze followed his exit, her eyes hidden behind long lashes.

No one noticed the brief interaction.


	14. Chapter 14: Unwind

I didn't feel like writing plot, so this is the result. Rated M.

westwingnut221: Yeah...I didn't think the flu shot thing through, lol. Sorry! But it's very highly unlikely that such a thing could happen. Glad to see you again. :)

williewildcat: Lucas is definitely one smooth spy. XD

* * *

**Chapter 14: Unwind**

Lucas couldn't remember the last time he had left the Grid at a reasonable hour. The team liaised, monitored, and translated until three in the morning, but only Varinia had made any real progress. Lucas' subtle questions to the Russians yielded very little useful information. Apparently, they'd been completely ignorant to Kolesnikov's plot, or so they had insisted. But now that they knew, they would keep an eye on him, sending two agents to observe his comings and goings. Lucas doubted the FSB would discover anything significant. Tariq hadn't, except that Kolesnikov visited various internet cafes shortly before sending or receiving a Chimaera message. He did not communicate his organisation's plans for an epidemic at home, that much was obvious. But otherwise, the rogue Russian lived an uninteresting life.

"He doesn't even go to strip clubs," Lucas remarked, as he and Varinia were driving back to her flat.

She arched a brow. "You sound disappointed."

"Surprised," he corrected and turned onto her street. "Every Russian baddie I've tailed in the past liked his strip clubs. Something was always done at them."

"Mmm, I bet."

Pulling up to her building, Lucas gave her a pointed glance.

"Besides that," he said, half-amused and half-exasperated. "Usually they met at strip clubs to discuss their plans." He watched Varinia unbuckle her seatbelt and gather her things. "Promise me you won't go upstairs and continue working on the translation."

"I won't," she assured but looked away guiltily. He knew she had intended to plug away at it until she'd finished.

"Varinia," he said, leaning forward. "You'll burn out if you don't sleep."

"Maybe, but this message is a little more important than getting the recommended eight hours of sleep," she said dryly.

Lucas sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What am I to do with you?"

"Well, I've a few ideas." The suggestive note in her voice drew his attention. "After all, you _did_ mention that you were interested in seeing the sights again."

"I did," he agreed.

She opened the door and got out, glancing back at him over her shoulder, her suitcase forgotten in the boot. He followed, barely remembering to lock the car, and kissed her as soon as they entered her flat. It was dark, but he didn't much care what her furniture or wall color looked like. They stumbled through the foyer, clumsily toeing off their shoes and shucking their coats. When he mouthed at her neck, Varinia pulled away.

"Shower," she said brusquely, taking his hand and leading him into what he presumed to be her bedroom.

Only once they reached the bathroom did she turn on a light, allowing him the first clear glimpse of her home. Her shower was larger than his, which was just as well, considering they were about to have sex in it. Or he hoped they were.

"Oh, God," she murmured, staring at her reflection in the mirror. "I see now why you told me to sleep."

He looked at her. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her skin was paler than usual, but she was still lovely.

"We'll sleep," he said, moving closer to her. Lucas reached behind her and switched on the shower. "But first we should wash." He kissed her again, while his fingers deftly unbuttoned her blouse and pushed it over her shoulders. She mirrored his actions, until they were both naked, their clothes in a pile by their feet. He guided her under the spray, watching as she closed her eyes and tipped her head back. If he hadn't already been hard, the sight of the water trailing over her breasts would have done the trick.

He reached for her, his hands settling on her waist. She jumped, startled by his touch, and opened her eyes.

"Sorry," he murmured and kissed her a third time. Her hands rested on his forearms, as she stood on her tiptoes to reach his lips. When they separated, she picked up the shampoo bottle, which he took from her. "Let me."

Varinia raised her eyebrows, then turned around. Lucas poured some of the shampoo into his hand and worked it through her hair, fingers massaging her scalp. Her head fell back, and had the sound of the water hitting the tiled floor not been so loud, he would have heard her soft sigh of pleasure. She had experienced quite a few firsts with Lucas, including having a lover wash her hair for her.

When he had finished, she eyed the spy with a contemplative expression.

"Turn around and get on your knees."

His lips twitched, and he did as he was told. But Lucas stiffened when he heard her gasp. For one careless, stupid moment, he had forgotten about the tattoo on his back.

"Onion domes," she said softly. Her fingers traced the markings slowly, sending a shiver down his spine. "Eight of them."

"Russia," he bit out, more harshly than he had intended.

Varinia flinched but didn't stop touching the tattoo.

"Lucas, what happened?"

He scowled at the sadness in her voice. She obviously suspected what the onion domes symbolised.

"Why ask if you already know?"

"Because I _don't_ know," she replied. "Not for sure anyway. I'm new to the world of spies, remember?"

He sighed and stood, facing her. Varinia gazed up at him, and he was relieved to see no pity in her eyes. Sympathy, yes, but that he could stomach better.

"I was captured while on a mission in Moscow," he explained. "Inevitably, I found myself in a Russian prison."

"Eight onion domes for eight years," she said, understanding. A finger traced the tattoo on his chest. "And the others?"

"More souvenirs," said Lucas tonelessly. After two years of being released, he had mostly gotten past the anger. "That one is William Blake's _Ancient of Days_."

"That's right. You mentioned you were a fan of his."

He nodded. "We see...eye-to-eye on things."

"A distrust of systems," she said, remembering. "Including and especially governments."

He gave her a half-smile. "It's a common pathology among spies."

Varinia hummed in agreement and trailed her hand lower to the tattoo beneath his belly button.

"What's this one?"

"_Gnothi seauton_," he answered. "It means 'know thyself' in Ancient Greek."

"And do you?"

"Yes," he affirmed, bringing his head down towards hers. "But I'd like to know _you_ better."

Lucas suspected Varinia had more questions, but she nevertheless accepted and returned his kiss. He wanted to tell her everything-about Darshavin, the interrogations, his recovery, and even the mediocre food-, but after Sarah, he was wary of any social interaction that rendered him vulnerable. That was why he enjoyed his relationship with the linguist. It was simple. They ate and laughed and fucked. But little did Lucas know, the physical intimacy was slowly seeping deeper.

He backed her against the wall, hands roaming over her body. His mouth moved to her neck, while he cupped her breasts, kneading them and flicking his thumbs over her nipples. She arched into him and pulled his hips closer, seeking more contact. His cock, which had softened during their tattoo-talk, now stood fully erect and curved slightly towards his belly. Lucas jerked when Varinia wrapped a hand around it, stroking up from base to tip. He groaned when her thumb brushed over the frenulum, before circling the glans.

Any further sounds were muffled against her flesh, as he suckled first one breast, then the other. His mouth moved lower, kissing a path down her stomach, until he was once again kneeling in front of her. Coaxing her thighs apart, Lucas stroked over her folds and was pleased to find she was already slick. She gasped when he hitched a leg over his shoulder and covered her core with his mouth, tasting her. His tongue briefly dipped into her, then moved towards her clit to prod the engorged organ. He looked up at Varinia. Her head was against the wall, reddish-blonde hair hanging wetly around her face, her eyes open and dark with desire. She met his gaze, and he chose that moment to push a finger into her, crooking it to find her other pleasure point. The moan that escaped her lips went straight to his cock. It twitched and throbbed, but he ignored it.

While his mouth worked her clit, Lucas added a second finger, thrusting faster and harder as her breaths became pants. Varinia bucked her hips, her fingers in his hair, and with a final suck to her clit, she came with a shuddering moan. He steadied her with his free hand on her hip and pulled off the sensitive flesh, wiping her fluids from his chin.

"Well, that's one way to unwind after a long day at the office," she quipped.

Lucas grinned up at her and rose to his feet. "The best way, in my opinion."

"Agreed," she said, pulling his head down for a kiss.

The height difference required him to bend down and Varinia to stand on her tiptoes, so Lucas cupped her buttocks and lifted her, pinning her body between his and the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, clinging to him as their tongues met. When she rubbed her core against his erection, Lucas shifted her weight into one hand to grip it and guide it to her entrance.

With their lips still touching, Varinia swallowed his groan and she his moan, as he slid into her easily. By now, the water was barely even tepid, but neither noticed, because they were enveloped in each other's heat. Both hands supporting her, Lucas pulled out slowly and thrust back in, watching her eyes grow impossibly darker. The light green was nearly completely eclipsed by black, and he imagined his looked the same.

As their pace increased, Varinia's legs tightened around him, and he hoisted her a bit higher, changing the angle just enough that her breath hitched in pleasure. She clenched around him like a vise, wrenching an embarrassingly loud moan from his lips. It only seemed to encourage her, however, for his cockhead was squeezed again, sending a warmth to pool in his groin. With each thrust, they spiraled higher, until Lucas felt spasms around his erection and heard Varinia cry out. Unable to hold off any longer, he followed after three short, rhythmless bucks of his hips, spilling into her with his grunt muffled in her neck.

In the post-coital limbo, she held him to her, neither aware of much besides the frenzied beating of their hearts and the slowly dissipating thrill of orgasm. They remained like that for minutes, trying to regain their breath. When they had, Lucas kissed her softly and set her down, ensuring she was steady on her feet before releasing her.

"The water's cold," she complained, shying away from the spray.

He chuckled and turned the tap towards 'hot.'

"I guess we'll have to wash quickly, then."

She kissed his chest, in the center of the Blake tattoo, and opened the shampoo bottle.

"Well, _my_ hair's already done, thanks to you," she said. "But yours isn't." Lucas took the hint and got to his knees for a third time that night. "Your hair's going to smell like violet. I hope you don't mind."

He smiled as she lathered the shampoo into his hair, giving his scalp the same massage as he'd done for hers. Had Lucas' brain not been flooded by endorphins and oxytocin, it might have communicated to him the remarkable fact that he stood beneath the full shower spray without even a hint of unease, let alone his usual trepidation.

Whether the spy knew it or not, the damage Sarah's betrayal had wrought upon his recovery was slowly beginning to mend.


	15. Chapter 15: The Cleansers

This chapter was difficult to write, and I'm still not 100% pleased with it. But here it is, in all its plot-heavy glory.

williewildcat: Lol, yes that shower scene was steamy (pun intended). But shower sex is never that good. We can pretend, though. ;)

**Disclaimer:** Take this chapter with a grain of salt, as I'm an expert in neither espionage nor microbiology. But I did my best with the information I found.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 15: The Cleansers**

"_Dum spiro, spero_," Varinia read softly, a finger tracing the letters. "While I live, I hope."

Lying on his stomach, Lucas craned his neck to look at her. She was staring at his back, her bottom lip between her teeth. Lucas knew she was thinking, and he could guess about what.

"Tattooing's part of the culture there," he said, echoing his words to Harry two years ago. "It's necessary if you want to survive."

Varinia nodded mutely and kissed the tattoo on his left shoulder. "What does this one mean?"

"An eight-pointed star for an eight-year prison term."

"And this one?" She kissed the prow of the ship tattoo on his right shoulder.

"Freedom," he replied, his voice tinged with bitterness. "Or a yearning for it."

She placed a kiss on each of the sails, then moved down to the 'Mир' on his lower back.

"Now _this_ one I actually know," she said, and he felt her smile against his skin. "Peace."

Peace. Lucas felt it now, despite the troubling subject matter. Perhaps that was why he didn't think before he spoke.

"My clever linguist."

Instead of moving on to the next tattoo, as Lucas had expected, Varinia went silent and still. Turning to glance at her, the expression on her face made him realise what he had said.

"Varinia, I..." he trailed off, unsure what to say. I'm sorry? I didn't mean it? I feel so relaxed with you that it just slipped out? "I didn't intend to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't," she replied, shaking her head. "I was just surprised, that's all."

"Well, _I'm_ uncomfortable now," he murmured.

She giggled and touched the tip of her nose to his. "Don't be. I know what you meant."

Lucas frowned, considering this. How could she know what he had meant when he himself didn't know? But the moment was awkward enough without his questioning her.

"Come on, you," he said, pulling her against his chest. "We've only a few hours till we have to be up, and we _really_ need the sleep."

Varinia yawned and pillowed her head upon his shoulder, resting a hand on the Blake tattoo. She stroked it briefly, before closing her eyes.

"Goodnight, Lucas."

He kissed the top of her head and wrapped his arms around her.

"Sleep well, Varinia."

#

The next morning, Varinia finished translating the most recent Chimaera message, whose contents had visibly shaken her.

"Harry, we have a problem," she announced, striding purposefully from the lift.

Lucas followed her into the office, conscious of Ruth's curious expression. He knew what she was wondering, the observant woman. He and Varinia had obviously arrived together, but that was easily explained. The purple marks just below her collarbone, however, were not. As he glanced at Varinia's Victorian-inspired shirt, he was instantly glad she had chosen to wear the high-necked garment.

"What's wrong, Varinia?" Harry asked, joining his team by the desks.

"They know we know about them," the linguist said ominously.

"MI5?" Harry questioned.

"No," replied Varinia. "At least this message didn't mention Five _or_ Six specifically." She gave Tariq her pen drive, which he plugged into his computer. The translated e-mail appeared on the projector screen. "But they know for sure that the Turks, Chinese, and Russians are aware of their experiments with the flu shots."

Lucas, having previously seen the message, nevertheless felt a chill down his spine as he read it again. Harry bent over the desk, his expression as grim as Lucas had ever seen it.

"They're scrapping further test runs," said the senior spy tonelessly.

"And moving on to the 'grand finale'," Ruth added. If the situation had not been so precarious, they might have been amused by the melodramatic phrase.

"I think this message was sent out to multiple people, probably in each of the target countries," said Varinia.

Lucas nodded and read aloud a line near the end of the letter. "'We, The Cleansers, vow to purge the world of Western poison.'" He looked meaningfully at each of his colleagues in turn. "That includes us."

"At least we have a name now," Tariq remarked, though even his customary cheer was dampened by the e-mail.

Harry addressed Ruth. "Call Dr Gallagher," he instructed. "In the day it took to translate the message, _The Cleansers_ may have already begun preparations for the main event."

Lucas followed Harry into his office. "Do we know what that is yet?"

"If the e-mail doesn't say so, then no, not for certain," the senior spy replied. He poured himself a scotch, then the same amount into a second glass, which he handed to Lucas. "But I think it's safe to assume that whatever they're planning, it will be big and lethal."

"And directed at England and America," murmured Lucas, sipping the alcohol.

Harry had downed his in one go, a sure sign that he was afraid. Lucas didn't blame him. They knew very little about the organisation's impending actions, despite having access to its secret communications.

"I think it's time we brought in Kolesnikov," said Harry. "If we're to have any hope of stopping this, we'll need his intel."

Lucas drank the rest of his scotch and stood. "Don't worry, Harry. We'll get him."

As he walked towards the lift, Varinia, who was on the phone with Damla in Ankara, caught his gaze. He gave her a small nod, before the doors closed and the lift descended. When she had hung up, Varinia knocked on Harry's door. He invited her in.

"Ruth is talking to Marcus, and I've just spoken with Damla, our MİT contact in Ankara," she said. "They've intercepted and translated the message, too, and it checks out with ours. Turkish special forces have gone after Boris Trotsky, Kolesnikov's equivalent in Ankara."

Harry took in the information with a pensive expression. He folded his hands on the desk and learnt forward.

"I can't help wondering if it isn't significant that two of the confirmed terrorists are Russian."

"You think the Russians are more involved than they say?" Varinia asked, her brows furrowing in consideration. "It wouldn't be the first time they lied about something like this, I imagine."

"No, it wouldn't be," Harry agreed, a touch wryly. "I suppose we'll know soon enough," he said, with a sigh. "Lucas has taken a team to apprehend Kolesnikov."

"Do they know where he is?"

"He was captured on the cameras at Cannon Street underground," Harry replied. "That was a few hours ago, and CCTV hasn't shown him at any other station since then. But Tariq will remain in contact with Lucas the entire time."

"Could he have taken a taxi back to his flat?" she asked.

"Yes," affirmed Harry. "And if I know Lucas, he'll split the team and have one half search the area around Kolesnikov's last known location, while he accompanies the other half to the flat."

Before Varinia could reply, Ruth poked her head in.

"Harry, you're going to want to see this."

The woman looked and sounded so worried that the linguist's stomach did a nervous flip. Harry glanced at her briefly on his way out, and she followed.

"Remember the mother and daughter in Yunnan province?" Ruth prompted. "Well, the Chinese have just informed us that they've died. As have four others, all of whom presented with the same symptoms as the Turkish victims."

"Do the Chinese know who was responsible?" Harry asked.

"They have a few suspects, who had access to medical supplies in the area," Ruth replied, handing him a sheet of paper with three names and pictures on it. According to the biographies, they were all Chinese, and one of them had lived in Moscow for a time.

"But no luck finding them yet?"

Ruth shook her head. "The MSS have agents stationed at transport points, but the suspects could be long gone."

"Well, now we have definitive proof that the Chinese are actually involved," pointed out Varinia. "That's something."

"You'd suspected that from Chimaera, though, didn't you?" Tariq asked.

"Only because Chimaera has a Chinese component," she admitted. "I figured there had to be native speakers of each constituent language to create it."

"Native doctors, too, it would seem," mused Harry. He looked at Ruth, who pursed her lips.

"There's more, Harry." She opened an e-mail that contained a news article in Russian, with a brief explanation in English below it. "Marcus sent this after we spoke. Twelve people in Yugorsk, a town in Siberia, near-simultaneously fell ill with flu-like symptoms yesterday evening. Nine of them are already dead."

Ruth moved aside to allow Varinia access to the computer.

"The doctors questioned them, and none of them reported receiving a vaccine of any kind, although they had all visited the same local clinic that day."

"Then The Cleansers have already begun the next phase," Harry determined. He rubbed his forehead, thinking. "When is Dr Gallagher coming in?"

"As soon as she can," Ruth replied. "She was finishing up her shift when I called."

When Harry regarded Varinia, she noticed he looked quite weary.

"Is Six's information accurate?" he asked.

"Based on this article, yes," she answered. "But apparently they didn't deem it important that Yugorsk has a heavy Mansi population, as well as a Khanty one."

"That cannot be coincidental," Harry said.

"No, I don't think so either," the linguist agreed.

"In that case, Germany is their next target." Before Harry could even turn to Ruth, she had already begun dialing Marcus' number.

At that moment, Dr Gallagher arrived, looking tired but focused.

"Ruth said there was urgent news?"

The team updated her on what they had learnt, including the recent illnesses in Siberia. Occasionally she asked questions, but mostly she listened silently, her mouth set in a tense line.

"The Russian patients all described the same thing," Varinia told her, consulting the article. "They had attended their local clinic, and there were twelve of them in the waiting room, when the heat suddenly turned on for a few minutes, then shut off. A nurse, wearing a face mask, then informed them that the clinic had to close due to electrical problems and sent them home."

"My God," Dr Gallagher breathed. "They've managed to create an aerosol delivery system for the bacterium."

"That's why the nurse wore the mask," said Tariq, understanding. "This is bad."

"It's potentially catastrophic," the infectious disease specialist corrected. "As the Chinese case demonstrates, this strain of septicaemic plague is antibiotic-resistant, which is disastrous enough on its own. But _this_", she murmured, her brown eyes holding a hint of fear, "could result in a global pandemic before anyone can even utter _Yersinia pestis_."

"What can we do?" Harry asked.

"The creation of a disease and delivery system this sophisticated requires high-tech microbiology labs," Dr Gallagher explained. "The organisation wouldn't risk transporting the bacteria across borders, so each target country, including Russia, must have at least one such lab."

Harry nodded and contacted Lucas, requesting that he return to the Grid immediately. CO19 could handle Kolesnikov when and if they found him.

"Damla said that their people have been working on a vaccine since the septicaemic plague was confirmed," offered Varinia. "If we can get a sample of the bacterium, we can do the same."

"I'll talk to Marcus," said Harry. "Meanwhile, Tariq, work with Dr Gallagher on locating potential labs in the UK."

The computer whizz nodded and moved a chair next to his computer for the infectious disease specialist.

"Varinia, how well do you know Chimaera?"

The linguist's head tilted in curiosity. "Well enough to translate it into English. Why?"

"Can you translate English into _it_?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Maybe," she replied uncertainly. "But it would take me longer than their linguists to write a reply."

Harry masked his disappointment. If Varinia could formulate a convincing response, they might be able to stall a widespread release of the disease long enough to locate the labs and stop the plot. Or at least long enough to find an antibiotic that was still effective against the bacterium.

"But I can try," she acquiesced, sitting down at her desk. "Just tell me what to write, and I'll do my best."

That was how Lucas found them upon his return, Harry sitting beside Varinia, who was biting her bottom lip in concentration. He had seen that expression many times in Ankara, and even then he had wanted to kiss the abused flesh. The only thing that had changed now was that he _could_.

"Ah, good you're here, Lucas," greeted Harry. Varinia glanced up at Lucas and gave him a small wave, before turning her attention back to her work. "Once Dr Gallagher and Tariq locate potential labs in England that could be used to assemble the bioweapon, I'd like you and a HAZMAT team to investigate a few of them. Other teams, including Six's, will cover the rest."

"The situation is that dire, then?" Lucas questioned, his brows creasing.

"An attack is definitely impending, but we don't know where yet," Harry replied. "Varinia is working on a message to buy us some time."

At the mention of her name, the linguist bit her lip so hard that she drew blood. Lucas frowned but didn't move towards her, though his first instinct had been to do just that.

"It probably won't work," she warned, wincing at the sting in her lip. "By the time I finish this, all of London might be infected."

Harry exchanged a glance with Lucas. "It doesn't hurt to try," said the senior spy. He placed a hand on Varinia's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I have to speak to Marcus, but I'll be in my office if you need anything."

When Harry had gone, Lucas scanned the room. Content that everyone was sufficiently absorbed in their own tasks, he took the seat beside Varinia that his superior had just vacated.

Nudging her shoulder with his, he said, "It'll be all right."

"I beg to differ," she responded, her eyes meeting his for an instant. "We're out of our depth, Lucas. Or at least, I am."

His gaze trailed over the computer screen. Whether or not the writing was correct, he didn't know, but it looked convincing to him.

"The fact that you can write even half a message in Chimaera means you're not out of your depth," Lucas disagreed. She sighed but didn't reply. "Look," he said, allowing his hand to rest on her thigh for a moment, "I have to go, and I may not be back by the time you leave for home."

This time, she faced him. Her expression held a mix of fear and anger.

"Don't go, Lucas," she whispered. "You saw what that thing did to Eda."

He smiled softly, touched by her concern for him. "I'll be wearing protective gear, the kind doctors like Gallagher wear." She didn't look reassured, and he felt a wave of affection for her. "I'll be fine, Varinia."

She gazed at him intently, her eyes flicking between his. "You'd better be." A small hand joined his on her thigh, then retreated.

Lucas took that as his cue to go. Making a quick phone call to assemble a HAZMAT team, he walked towards the lift.


End file.
